


Show Me How to Dance

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Photographer Negan, Roommates, Self-Discovery, Sharing a Bed, painter rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 108,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: College junior Rick Grimes is on his own for the first time, moving onto campus to get the full college experience complete with a new roommate: full-time pain in the ass, Negan. Rick resigns himself to a semester of keeping his head down, but as he starts feeling the distance from the life and friends he's always known, he finds himself more and more drawn toward Negan, and realizes that he's been clinging to the past for far too long.





	1. Bad First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> So here we go, college boys Rick and Negan! I'm excited about the ideas I have for this AU, I hope you like it!

Rick Grimes glanced down at the untidy scrawl decorating the back page of his sketchbook where he’d jotted down his brand new dorm number- like he would forget it, like he hadn’t already recited it a hundred times in his head to get used to it- _Alexandria Hall, room 616._

Uneasiness thrummed through him, fluttering in his stomach as he bypassed the elevator and opted to climb the stairs. It was only the third floor, after all, and his last visit with Shane- muscled, cop-in-training Shane- had left him feeling more insecure than usual.

Probably something to do with the endless underhanded comments his friend had made about how great the goddamned police academy was and “ _What’s that you’re doin’ these days, Rick? Paintin’ bowls of fruit and shit? I’m just fuckin’ jokin’, man, just teasin’- don’t tell me you lost your sense of humor now that you’re the only college boy-”_

Rick shook off the memory of it, beating back the negative thoughts. The last thing he needed on the day he was meeting his new roommate was Shane in his head already, making him second guess this whole endeavor for the hundredth time. In the three years since he and Shane had graduated high school, Rick had toyed with the idea of his future, never committing, never choosing a major until late last semester. Shane had changed his five times in two years before dropping out entirely and opting for the police academy right in the middle of the summer, _after_ he had already committed to moving out and into an on-campus dorm with Rick. The last-minute change of plans had left Rick reeling in the wake while he tried to get his bearings, and he'd nearly decided to just stay at home and continue driving the hour-long commute on his own. In the end, he'd decided to take his chances with a stranger as a roommate- better to follow through and try to be independent than stay home and have to hear about how he was still living at home while his best friend was moving in with a couple of new cadet buddies. 

It was strange, being back on campus without him. It felt bigger, more intimidating than it ever had, and even though Rick was walking the same paved paths that he’d been following for two years now, he felt oddly lost. Maybe just because he’d never lived on campus like this before- he and Shane had always driven together.

There were a handful of people still moving in, parents saying tearful goodbyes to freshmen who were out on their own for the first time, old friends reuniting after the summer apart. Rick tried to suppress the twinge of jealousy in his gut at the sight of it. Much like in high school, Rick had stuck mostly by Shane’s side throughout his freshman and sophomore years. It was easy to follow along with someone like Shane- loud, outspoken, charming. It was safe by Shane’s side, comfortable, and he knew who he was and where he belonged when he was there. Without him around, Rick wasn’t really sure what he was doing.

He nearly knocked when he reached room 616, shaking his head and huffing a laugh at himself before walking right in.

Rick had heard horror stories about roommates- people who stayed up until all hours of the night blaring music so loud that the whole floor could hear, people who stole food out of the fridge that wasn’t theirs, people so anal that they couldn’t stand a single hair out of place and left passive-aggressive post-it notes everywhere. He’d been preparing himself for the possibility that his new roommate fell into a similar category.

What he _hadn’t_ expected was to walk in and see his new roommate lounging on the couch, naked but for a ludicrously tight pair of red boxer-briefs and drinking straight from a silver flask. At just past noon. Rick felt frozen in the open doorway, not quite sure what to make of the strange scene before him.

Luckily for him, the other man didn’t appear to be the type to let awkward silences linger.

“Well fuck me,” he said good-naturedly as he shoved off the worn-in couch and up to his feet. His voice was a deep rumble that, when combined with his lack of clothing- and lack of _shame_ , for that matter- left Rick feeling strangely wrong-footed and flustered.

It also could have had something to do with the fact that the man had a rugged charm to him from the deep dimples hiding beneath a fine dusting of stubble to his long, leanly muscular body that placed him a good few inches taller than Rick himself.

“You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan.” The stranger- _Negan_ \- sauntered up to Rick with an easy grin, utterly unbothered by Rick’s own confusion. He held a hand out and Rick awkwardly fumbled with his sketchbook and shoulder bag before he managed to accept the gesture, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Negan’s face and not let them wander down to the clinging red material hugging his hips.

“Yeah. How’d you-?”

“It’s on the sign outside the door so people don't get fucking lost. No wait, shit! I should have played that off better. Let you think I was a fucking stalker or some shit. That’d be one hell of a fucking first impression, right?”

Rick snorted with laughter, noticing that Negan had yet to drop his hand. “I’d say you made a pretty interesting one already.” Negan blinked for a moment, and Rick gave him a very pointed gaze at his bare chest, which made the man howl with unrestrained mirth, still squeezing Rick’s hand.

“Fuck, you got me there, Rick!” His grin never wavered, and the following once-over that Negan gave him left him feeling uncomfortably stripped. At least Negan finally dropped his hand, but now he had a strangely curious, searching look in his face as he met Rick’s eyes, his tongue sliding between his teeth in a way that made him look almost hungry. Rick swallowed hard against a fresh wave of nerves, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat to his bedroom and gather his thoughts. “Don’t seem to mind too much, though,” Negan noted, and Rick tensed, suddenly wary. The last thing he needed was to get stuck rooming with a bigoted dickhead- “Aw, Ricky boy!” Negan chuckled, folding his arms across his bare chest and still gazing down at Rick with that cocky smirk. “No need to get your damn panties in a twist, baby blue. It’s no skin off my nose how you get off. Don’t you worry your cute curly head about it.” And there it was again, that sharp left turn into uncharted territory that left Rick feeling two steps behind in their conversation. _Baby blue? Cute…?_

Negan turned his back to Rick, snatching his flask up from where he’d left it on the couch. “I’ll go put some clothes on, though. Don’t want you gettin’ _too_ fucking hot and bothered, right?”

Rick glared daggers at the man’s retreating back, affronted. “I wasn’t-”

Negan swiveled, all cockiness and humor, shoulders thrown back. “Oh, c’mon, Rick! Let’s not start out our new roomie relationship with a lie. I saw you checkin’ me out- it’s alright, can’t say I fucking blame you. I mean…c’mon.” Negan waved his hands down his body in a self-aggrandizing gesture that made Rick’s fingers twitch around his grip on the sketchbook, tempted to hurl it at the man’s head. “It’s alright. Think about it like this- we both got to know a little something about each other today. Or, in my case, a not-so-little something.” He gave a crude thrust of his hips, and Rick scoffed, turning away to hide his red face. It wasn’t because Negan was attractive- it wasn’t! He just had this embarrassing and unhelpful habit of flushing when he got angry, and he definitely didn't need to give Negan more ammunition to taunt him with.

“Nah, I’m pretty damn sure it was a little something,” Rick bit back, making a beeline for his room. He could hear Negan laughing obnoxiously even after he closed the door behind himself- _goddamned paper-thin dorm room walls_ , he cursed. It could be worse, he supposed. At least they had separate bedrooms, albeit tiny ones.

Rick collapsed back onto his bed, a compact twin-sized thing that already bore his blue flannel sheets and comforter. He and his parents had already dropped off the bulk of his belongings the day before, had neatly set up his room so that when he moved in for good, he was already settled.

It wasn’t bad, as far as dorm rooms went. There was a small desk up against the far wall with a window just above it that looked out over the courtyard in the center of campus. He’d brought a compact bookshelf from home that housed a handful of his favorite novels and art books that he already knew would eventually get cluttered with canvases and filled sketchbooks. He’d added a few personal touches to make the place feel more homey: a tacked-up Georgia O’Keefe poster; a leafy green plant that his mom had given him as a parting gift with the instructions to _water it three times a week and give it lots of sunlight, no slacking;_  and two framed photos: one of himself, his parents, and his brother Jeffrey from last summer, and one of him and Shane from their high school graduation, all grins and caps-and-gowns. Rick frowned, melancholy creeping in at his edges, and he traced a finger down the side of the frame, a sudden and overwhelming fear that he’d made the wrong decision overtaking him. Shane had tried to talk him into enrolling with him at the police academy all summer, but Rick had insisted that he wanted to finish out college.

_Could be at the academy with him right now. Could be in locker rooms listenin’ to his dumb jock talk or at the firing range working off some steam, or-_

No. He couldn’t think like that, not now that he was finally here. The choice had been made, and he wasn’t about to let an obnoxious asshole of a roommate get to him so quickly.

* * *

He was letting his obnoxious asshole of a roommate get to him quickly.

Rick had decided that a night in before the first day of classes tomorrow would do him good- a little recuperation from the stress of moving and meeting Negan, nesting up in his new room and getting used to being here. He’d called his parents, let them know that everything was going alright and that _yes, mom, I found my room alright_ , and _no, dad, I’m not going to be out every night partying_. He’d fudged the truth a little when it came to their barrage of questions about his new roommate- _oh, no, he’s fine. Seems like a nice enough guy, shouldn’t be a problem_ \- and then decided what he needed was a nice movie marathon, so he ventured out into the common area, which was thankfully Negan- free for the time being, made himself a bag of extra-butter microwave popcorn, and settled in for what he thought was going to be a nice, relaxed evening.

Boy, had he been wrong.

Rick was two movies deep and about a quarter of the way through _Nightcrawler_ when he heard it- the first sounds of people at their door and Negan greeting them with boisterous enthusiasm that grated on Rick’s nerves even though the walls. _That’s fine_ , he thought, ratcheting the volume on his laptop up a few notches, _probably havin’ a few friends over. No big deal._

He got halfway through the movie before it became a big deal. He was holed up in his room with headphones on and the volume loud enough that he should have been able to hear Jake Gyllenhaal’s goddamned _breathing_ , and he could still hear Negan and his friends doing god-only-knows-what outside his door. In fact, as thin as the dorm walls were, it sounded like they _were_ right outside his door.

Trying to quell his rising annoyance, Rick paused the movie and tried to less-than-gracefully maneuver out of bed without spilling popcorn kernels everywhere, wrenching his bedroom door open to see…much more than just a couple of people hanging out in all corners of his dorm.

It was so tightly packed that he couldn’t see down the tiny hall to Negan’s bedroom- in fact, he could barely see the couch for how many people were piled atop it, one girl sprawled across the laps of five other people that had crammed onto the thing. Rick gaped and stepped out, only to be immediately met with sticky wetness soaking through the bottom of his socked feet. He glanced down to see a half-full red plastic cup of beer spilling onto the carpet.

“Aw, what the hell, man! I was still drinkin’ that shit!” A stringy-haired blonde guy complained from his place on the floor. He frowned grumpily up at Rick like it was somehow _his_ fault that he’d left his beer sitting on the ground in front of Rick’s bedroom door.

Rick gritted his teeth. “Where’s Negan?” he asked the guy, and he shrugged, his attention solidly focused on the cute girl seated beside him who was, at the very least, smart enough to keep her drink in her hands and out of kicking range of the crowd of people cramped into the small space.

“Dunno, man. Last I saw he was tryin’ to chat up Amber.”

“Who?” Rick asked.

“Mark’s girlfriend.”

 _“Who?”_ Rick repeated, and then waved off the guy’s answer. “Nevermind. I’ll find him. Clean up after yourself, at least.”

“You’re the one who spilled my drink, man!” The guy called at Rick’s retreating back, and Rick itched to turn around and flip him off, but he was focused on finding Negan and asking him why the hell he’d thought that throwing a drunken party on a Sunday night before the first day of classes was a good idea. He wove his way through a writing mass of intertwined bodies bumping and grinding to music that he couldn’t find a source for, searching their faces for that unholy smirk and a pair of hazel eyes. After being elbowed in the face and ribs more times than he could count, he finally spotted Negan leaning up against the wall between his bedroom and the bathroom, chatting up a waifish blonde girl that Rick didn’t have to glance twice at to tell she wasn’t interested in what Negan was selling.

“Negan,” he called loudly over the deafening thrum of bass, “what the hell is-”

“ _You!_ You fucking sonofa-” an angry male voice saw both of their heads turning toward a red-faced and wobbly-legged guy advancing on Negan, cup gripped in his hand.

“Mark!” Negan crowed drunkenly, unbothered. “Glad you could fuckin’ show up, you goddamned sight for sore-”

Mark made an off-color snarling sound and hurled the contents of his cup at Negan, clearly uninterested in the man’s greeting. Or rather, he probably _meant_ to toss his drink at Negan- instead, his punch-drunk aim caught _Rick_ , cheap two-dollar draft beer sloshing into his face and down his chest.

“-eyes…” Negan trailed off, so clearly caught between laughter and feigned seriousness that Rick nearly swung around and socked him square in the jaw. “Goddamn, Mark, I think it’s time we cut you the fuck off. That’s no way to greet my new roomie!” Negan tried to throw an arm around Rick’s shoulders, only to catch an elbow to the gut as Rick squirmed away, seething. Negan grunted out an _oof_ into Rick's face, breath reeking strongly of liquor. 

Mark didn’t seem to register that he’d thrown his beer at the wrong person, still fiercely glaring at Negan as he took the blonde girl's hand. “Stay the fuck away from Amber, you prick!” He snapped, and Negan chortled, leaning casually- or maybe he was just that unsteady on his feet- against the wall as the couple wove their way through the crowd and away from him.

“Nice seein’ you too, Mark!” he hollered, shaking his head before turning his attention onto a dripping Rick. “Shee- _it_. He got you good, didn’t he? Fuck, better you than me, god knows I wasn’t plannin’ on having to do laundry so soon-”

“You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” Rick snapped, wiping the sticky liquid out of his eyes. He didn't want to play the role of the uptight roommate, but between their introduction this morning and whatever the _hell_ was going on now, Rick was feeling frustrated and on-edge. “Why the hell are all these people here?”

Negan blinked at him, having the audacity to look like Rick had asked him something utterly inane. “They’re here for the fucking kickoff party, Rick. Don’t you know that classes start tomorrow? We’re having one last fucking hurrah before we return ourselves to the shackles of the institution,” he said dramatically.

“Yeah, I _do_ know that classes start tomorrow,” Rick replied, “that’s why I’m wondering why there’s a drunken party in my fucking living room. Unless you’re planning on getting all these people out of here at a reasonable hour-”

“What’s _reasonable_ to you, Rick?” Negan inquired, frowning down at him. “Because the way you’re comin’ out here right now looking at me like I pissed in your fuckin' cheerios, I’m thinking we’ve got different ideas about that shit.”

“I need to sleep. I’ve got an eight am class tomorrow,” Rick hissed, and Negan rolled his eyes.

“Well, that’s your own goddamned fault, isn’t it? Shit, you’ve gotta be at least a junior, right? Who the hell is still takin’ eight am classes-”

“That’s not the point!” Rick barked, pointing a finger in Negan’s direction. “You shouldn’t be throwing drunken ragers half the damned night-”

“The _whole_ damned night, Rick,” Negan corrected with a slurring lilt to his words. “We party ‘til the sun comes up. You’re more than welcome to join us, it’d probably make that eight am class of yours more interesting.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Rick shouted over the din of the crowd. “Of all the asshole roommates I had to get-”

“You got the one that throws amazing fucking parties that so _generously_ offers to let you join in on. You should be thanking me, Rick.”

“Yeah,” Rick sneered, glaring daggers at the smirking man, “I’ll just do that. I’m so goddamned _thankful_ that I’ve got a roommate that’ll offer up free shitty beer in exchange for me gettin’ no sleep and a drinks gettin’ thrown in my face because you were flirting with some guy’s girlfriend.”

“Hey, now. Don’t go getting your panties in a twist over Mark, that was an honest mistake.”

“If anyone deserves a faceful of beer here, it’s you,” Rick snapped, and Negan’s eyes narrowed.

“Maybe so, Rick. But if anyone here needs a stick removed from their ass, it’s _you_. Must be a damn big stick up there too, by your fuckin’ attitude. How the hell did you even managed to wedge it up that tight little thing?” Negan leered drunkenly, and Rick was about to tell him to go straight to hell when the man reached out to grab a handful of said ass, giving it a rough squeeze that made Rick suck in a shocked breath.

Rick didn’t even have to make the decision to punch Negan square in the face- his body reacted for him instantly at the unwanted touch, arm pulling back and then slamming full-force into Negan’s cheekbone, rage and a touch of embarrassment burning through him. Negan stumbled back, dropping his thankfully-empty cup onto the carpeted floor, hands flying up to protect himself from any incoming blows.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Rick growled dangerously, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

He didn’t bother being kind this time- he shoved his way through the crowd in the living room until he got to his door, yanking it open to see a couple in the midst of a heavy make-out session on his bed.

“Get out!” he barked, and the two girls jumped up in shock, laughing and clinging to each other as they stumbled out into the hall again and Rick locked the door behind them.

He was shaking a little, both from the shock of Negan groping him and the adrenaline of the blow he’d delivered after. His nails, as short as they were, were biting into his palms with how tightly his fists were clenched. He had to consciously will himself to relax enough for them to loosen, suddenly all too aware of how sticky and damp and disgusting he felt all over. He stripped quickly, kicking his sodden shirt and socks into the corner of his bedroom before padding over to the closet and rooting through it for something clean to wear. He wanted to take a shower- the idea of going to bed sticky and beer-drenched was less than ideal, but there was no way he was going to wander back out there and risk seeing Negan again.

He glanced at the clock beside his bed- 1:46 am. The steady rumble of bass still permeated his room from the goings-on outside the door, and as much as Rick didn’t trust Negan, he had a feeling the man had been honest about how long the party would go on. Cursing his terrible luck and every choice that had led to him being here tonight, he settled into bed and put his headphones back on, figuring he’d rather fall asleep to the sounds of the movie than try to block out what was going on outside.


	2. Back and Forth

Rick didn’t mind waking up early- he never had, not even as a teenager when all of his friends started sleeping in well past noon every weekend and school break. He’d always counted himself lucky for it, since it made early morning classes easier, and there was a certain kind of peaceful serenity that came with being the first one to rise in the house.

Today, though- today, Rick was less than thrilled about his alarm blaring at 7:20 am, the sound of it so utterly abhorrent that he wanted to rip the cord right out of the wall if it meant him sleeping another twenty minutes.

It went without saying that he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Negan’s party had indeed gone on all night and continued into the small hours of the morning- the last thing Rick remembered of it was the music getting turned down at half past five am. He remembered that quite vividly, as he’d been glaring daggers at the hateful red numbers on his alarm clock for god only knew how long, praying for the solace of quiet to overtake the dorm. He’d prayed a few other things, too, things that probably appealed more to a vengeful god than a peaceful one.

Rick wasn’t about to stick around long and see if those prayers had been answered sometime in the two measly hours he’d gotten to sleep. If Negan’s hands had been severed and shoved down his own throat like Rick had spitefully pictured more than a few times in his wakefulness, he’d have to wait until later this evening to find out.

Of course the other boy didn’t have classes in the early morning- seemed about right. Rick decided that was for the best. It meant he got to wake up in peace, shower without having to fight for hot water, eat his cinnamon cream-cheese smothered bagel without having to endure the sound of Negan’s voice. He didn’t particularly want to see him, either, not after how they’d left things off last night.

Their dorm had been demolished, not surprising considering what Rick had witnessed in his short journey beyond his bedroom. There were red and blue plastic cups scattered everywhere- the floor, the couch, on top of the tv, on the chair the Rick had almost blindly sat down in to drink his morning coffee, even one placed precariously atop one of the blades of the fan. Every surface seemed to have a tacky film of spilled beer coating it, and Rick winced at the sticky sound that his hand made when he pulled it up off the narrow kitchen countertop.

_Wonder what the odds are that Negan will clean this place up?_

He had a feeling they weren’t high.

* * *

The bustling groups of students making their way to class could hardly be described as lively. At least half clutched at thermoses or paper coffee cups from the on-campus coffeehouse Java Jam, and there was a thick air of bleariness that always came with early Monday mornings. All of Rick’s classes today were in the Art building, less than a five minute walk from his dorm. One glance at the elevators on the first floor told him that taking the stairs would be quicker- as usual, one of the two was out of service, and the lone working one was crowded five people deep already.

He pulled up his schedule on his phone again, just to double-check the room number- Arts 443, 8 o’clock life drawing. The room was half-full when he got there, tired-eyed art students half-sleeping on their claimed bench easels. With his coffee already warming and waking him, Rick was ready to get to work, charcoal pencil poised behind his ear. He was more than a little disappointed when professor Harrison- a freckled, ponytailed blonde woman who insisted that, _No, please, just call me Andrea_ \- told them they wouldn’t have a model today and that they were just going over the syllabus. She let them out of class after twenty minutes, and Rick was left with a nearly three-hour gap period before his art history course.

It was always like this the first day of classes, the repetitive syllabus-reading, and before, Rick had always just met up with Shane and some of his friends and grabbed lunch or shot the shit in the school courtyard. Without Shane, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

In the end, he decided to take refuge from the August heat and humidity inside the library, which at least had air conditioning and comfortable chairs. I _can still draw people. Just…draw the people in the library. It’ll be fun, It’ll be-_

His phone buzzed right as his ass hit the cushioned seat, and he pulled it out to see Shane’s name glowing bright on his screen.

_How’s school goin’, college boy?_

He didn’t mean anything by it- Rick knew he didn’t, but somehow the question came off as condescending. Maybe Rick was sitting alone in the library and had just been thinking about how he missed his best friend, maybe because the text was quickly followed up by a second before Rick could even muster up at reply.

_I’m getting pretty fucking good with this thing_ , it said, followed up by a picture of Shane thumbs-upping the camera with a target practice dummy behind him, bullet holes hitting dead center more often than not.

And there it was again, that little voice in the back of his head poking and prodding and hissing that _that could be you._

He may not have meant anything by it, but that certainly didn’t keep Rick from feeling pretty shitty about the _That’s cool, man. School’s the same as ever. Wanna hear about my fucking asshole of a roommate?_  that he sent in reply. Even shittier still was the long silence that followed where he pathetically glanced at the still-black screen of his phone, waiting for a follow up text that never came.

* * *

 

Rick jolted awake, feeling utterly disoriented. There was drool running down his cheek and a crick in his neck from where it had been lolling off his the arm of the chair that he’d curled up in like a cat. He blinked a few times to try to clear his blurry vision, encouraging his contacts to settle back into place, swallowing and swallowing against a Sahara-dry mouth while he tried to figure out _where in the fuck he was-_

_Oh, right_ , he remembered when he saw the shelves lined with heavy hardback books- _library_.

And then he remembered- art history.

He checked his phone- a minute after the class had begun, and not-so silently cursed Negan and comfortable armchairs as he scrambled out of the library.

He nearly fell asleep in class, too- damn syllabuses. By the time he got out, his eyes were as dry and heavy as his tongue and all he wanted in the world was a smoothie and the rest of his nap, preferably in his bed among the comfort of blankets and pillows. One quick stop at Java Jam and four dollars later, he had a peach-banana smoothie that tasted like it had been placed directly into his hands by god himself and not a very bored looking barista whose nametag read _Maggie_ and whose eyes said _I would rather be anywhere but here serving smoothies and day-old bagels._

He left Maggie a generous tip in the elaborately decorated mason jar sitting out on the counter. He was soft like that. 

It was just past two when Rick got back to his dorm, having chugged the whole smoothie on the walk over. He stepped inside with his breath held and fingers crossed, hoping that Negan was in class.

Someone somewhere had decided to grant him mercy, because the apartment was empty. Negan’s bedroom door was ajar, revealing a rumpled, unmade bed with no one inside. Rick tossed his cup, breathed a deep sigh of relief, and collapsed onto his bed, thankful for small miracles.

* * *

It was still light out when he woke up, so he counted that as a win.

He could hear Negan’s voice, obscured to a low rumble through the walls, so he counted that as a loss. He considered just staying holed up in his room- but no, he thought. He shouldn’t be avoiding Negan- _he_ hadn’t done anything wrong. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, and clearly they weren’t about to become best pals, but he couldn’t just lock himself in his room and strategically creep out when the other boy was gone.

Also, his stomach was protesting his choice of a liquid lunch, growling with a hungry ache that was only worsened by the fact that a sweet, warm, smell was wafting into his room from the crack under his door. He sighed, kicked off the covers and trudged groggily out into the common area.

Negan was in nothing but boxers again, this time at the stove pouring a hearty amount of what looked and smelled to be pancake batter into a small frying pan that sizzled with hot melted butter as soon as the batter hit the surface. Rick’s traitorous mouth watered, bare feet padding toward the fridge so he could find something to quell the emptiness in his belly.

“Hey,” Negan said, glancing Rick's way. He was much more subdued than he’d been yesterday, his tone cautious and a touch coddling, as if Rick was an angry housecat waiting to bite and scratch. “Can we…talk?”

Rick pulled his head out of the fridge, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the other boy. He looked as genuine as Rick had seen, but Rick had only known him about a day, so that wasn't saying much.

He looked genuinely uncomfortable, and it suddenly clicked in Rick’s head- Negan probably wanted to assure him that he’d only groped Rick last night because he was _drunk_ , not because he was _into him_. Rick braced himself for it, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the fridge. “I guess.”

Negan flipped the pancake in the skillet with an artful flick of his wrist that Rick immediately deemed to be unfair before turning back to him. “I, uh…about last night.”

Rick cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. You were drunk.” His voice was curt and clipped, and Negan seemed to take that in stride.

“Doesn’t matter. I knew what I was doing- I shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have touched you, that shit’s not fucking cool.” Rick blinked, wondering at the unexpected turn of events- an honest-to-god apology? “Deserved exactly what you gave me and more,” Negan said, tipping his head to the side to show off a reddened bruise across his cheekbone. “You clocked me pretty good. An inch or two higher and I’d be sporting one hell of a shiner. As it is, I still got a couple of people lookin' at me funny in class today.”

“Good,” Rick snapped, feeling more than a little vindicated.

Negan poked at his pancake with the edge of the spatula, looking cowed. “I just…I mean, there’s no fucking excuse for it. I was bein’ a dick, and I crossed the line. I’m sorry, Rick. Fuck, if I’d seen somebody else pulling that shit, I would have beaten the holy hell out of them.” He sighed, sliding his pancake onto a paper plate where three others were already stacked. “I just wanted to tell you that. I know you don’t know jack shit about me other than that I’m the asshole that threw a loud-as-all-hell party and felt you up the first night you met me, but I hope that maybe you’ll at least believe me when I say that that’s not the kind of guy I am, and that shit won't happen again. That's a trademark Negan guarantee.”

Rick tiled his head at Negan, curious, searching. This was something different, _someone_ different from the asshole he’d met yesterday. A different side to the asshole, anyway. “What kind of guy are you then, Negan?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Negan chuckled, grabbing a second paper plate out of the cabinet beside the stove and sliding two pancakes onto it, holding it out to Rick like a waved white flag. “The kind of guy who owns up to his fuckin’ mistakes and makes you pancakes?” he ventured hopefully. When Rick hesitated, he rolled his eyes. “C’mon, blue eyes. I could hear your stomach growlin’ for this shit through the goddamned door. I know you want ‘em. I promise you, they’re damned delicious. Swear on my mother’s fucking grave.”

Rick’s stomach won out over his willpower in the end. Still eyeing Negan suspiciously, he grabbed a fork and took a bite, eyebrows raising while Negan looked on with a smugly triumphant expression that made Rick regret accepting his offer. “Well?” he prompted around a mouthful. “Good, aren't they? So good they make you wanna kiss the fuckin’ cook, right?”

Rick glared as menacingly as he could muster while eating the world’s best pancakes. “They’re alright. Could use some syrup.”

Negan made an offended noise, shaking his head sadly. “Syrup’s pure fucking sugar, Rick. You only put syrup on shit that’s not good enough to be eaten on its own. Syrup’s for Eggos, for your dad’s shitty Sunday morning pancakes that have Bisquick lumps in ‘em. You don’t put syrup on _my_ pancakes.”

Rick snorted. “Yeah, alright.” He took another bite, savoring the butter-crisp edges and fluffy middles. So Negan could make a mean pancake. Didn’t mean he was any less of an asshole.

“So,” Negan said after they’d finished and dumped their plates in the already-overflowing garbage- Negan had, at least, collected all the cups and pizza boxes from last night and binned them. He must have wiped up the spilled beer, too, because Rick didn’t have to pry his plate off the sticky countertop like he had that morning. “You forgive me? We all square?”

Rick considered that. Negan had kept him up all night, groped him, and been a vibrant display of all manner of dickish behavior yesterday. But today- today, he’d cleaned up after himself, apologized, and given Rick half his pancakes.

“Don’t know yet,” Rick answered coyly. “Jury’s still out. I appreciate the food, though. And the apology. It’s more than I expected.”

Rick caught the annoyed twitch of Negan’s mouth at that- maybe it had been a tad passive-aggressive, but he let it pass, covering it with a slick grin. “You’ll come around, Rick. I've just got a feeling.”

* * *

Negan took the party elsewhere that night, ducking out around nine with a vague wave in Rick’s direction and a joking, “don’t wait up,” punctuated with a dramatic wink that Rick promptly ignored in favor of the tv he’d plunked himself in front of after they’d finished their pancakes. It was nice watching movies on something other than his laptop, and he’d almost asked Negan if he wanted to join him, but decided against it. _Would have said no, anyway_ , Rick thought to himself as Negan locked the door behind himself. _He’s got better things to do than sit around with his uptight roommate and watch horror movies._

Tuesday saw Negan out of Rick’s hair entirely- either he had a heavy load of classes that day or he’d found some way to entertain himself. Rick didn’t even catch a glimpse of him, though he heard him come stomping in around midnight and the shower running, so his fun must have run out.

* * *

“First life model session today,” Andrea said brightly as Rick and his classmates streamed into the studio. She was seated casually on one of the bench easels and nodded over to a kindly-looking middle-aged woman with long, graying hair scooped up into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and a loose red robe cinched at her waist. “This here is Jeanette, today’s model. Gather in- closer, we’re all friends here, right? Grab a seat.” She nodded to the benches surrounding the small carpeted stage in the center of the room. “I’m going to do a short demonstration for those of you that are new to drawing the figure, and then we can get down to it.”

Rick grabbed a seat next to a tiny slip of a girl clad in all-black, her artfully sliced and patched jeans safety-pinned together at the seams and her short, wild hair dyed a striking shade of silver. She shot Rick a small, friendly smile. “Good to see a familiar face,” she said warmly, and Rick immediately felt like the world biggest jackass because he was absolutely positive that if he’d seen a girl as ostentatiously dressed as her before, he’d have taken notice.

“Uh…” he could feel himself flushing, color rising in his cheeks. He hated being an asshole, even accidentally. “I don’t mean to be a dick or anything, but-”

She laughed, the sound tinkling and musical like a windchime. “You don’t recognize me, right?” Rick shook his head guiltily, and the girl waved him off. “That’s alright. I look a little different than I did last semester. I’m Carol- we were in color theory together last semester?” Rick wracked his brain for a minute before it hit him, eyes widening in surprise. The last time he’d seen Carol, she’d been almost painfully quiet, her hair long and mousy brown and her clothes consisting of conservative sweaters and cardigans even in the beginning months of summer.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, I remember you. You look-”

“Different, I know.” She said it so proudly, with a gleeful twinkle in her kohl-rimmed eyes. “Got out of a long relationship over the summer. A long, shitty relationship. I figured I could use a change.”

Rick gave her a warm smile. “Well, it works for you.”

Carol looked like she was about to say something else when Andrea’s voice sounded from a few seats up. “Come in, come in- I know, first week, people get lost all the time in this building. You here for life drawing?”

“Sure am,” answered a very familiar voice, and Rick’s head jerked up to see none other than Negan himself standing in the doorway, eyes locking onto Rick’s immediately. “And lookie there, I think I see my drawing buddy.”

Rick sat stock-still as Negan loped over and came to a halt beside his bench, grinning like a maniac. “Scoot on over, Ricky. No more seats left.” Rick blinked stupidly up at him and slid over, brain too full of questions to tell Negan to go drag a bench in from the next room.

It occurred to him then that he’d never bothered to ask Negan what he was studying. He hadn’t struck Rick as particularly artsy, but who was he to judge that?

“What are you- why are you here?” he managed, feeling heat creep up his neck as Negan threw one long leg over the bench, straddling it and leaning back with his arms folded casually behind his head.

“I’m here for the class, Rick. Thought I’d said that already. You hard of fuckin’ hearing or something?”

“You weren’t here Monday,” Rick said weakly before he was cut off by Andrea’s voice again. “Alright, pay attention- if you can’t see me, get to where you can.” Negan smirked and put a finger to his lips, and Rick stiffly turned away to watch as Jeanette dropped her robe and positioned herself on the stage while Andrea talked about gesture and form and setting a structure for the pose.

_Why the hell is he here?_ Rick wondered. He’d made such a big deal about not having early morning classes, and yet here he was, cozied up behind him-

Rick’s whole body tensed when he felt Negan getting much _more_ cozy, sliding up so that he was practically leaning over Rick, his long legs bracketing Rick’s shorter ones. Rick caught Carol’s eye and noticed the amusement on her face as she watched them. _Traitor_ , Rick grumbled to himself.

Luckily, after the demonstration Andrea sought out an extra seat for Negan so at least he wasn’t spending the class period being spooned where he sat. He did notice that whenever he glanced up, Negan’s eyes seemed to be on _him_ instead of the model. Rick glared, ducked his head, and redoubled his efforts to realistically capture the way Jeanette was lounging on the stage. The back of his neck still prickled uncomfortably, though, the feeling of Negan's eyes on him never relenting. _Hope he gets bored eventually,_ Rick thought, _I hate drawing with someone watching me like a goddamned hawk._

As soon as Andrea ended the class, Rick was out the door and rounding on Negan, who had followed him out on his heels like an overgrown puppy. “Why are you in this class? I thought you hated early classes?”

“Whoa there, Rick,” Negan said mildly, leaning up against the wall as people streamed out of the classroom behind them, “you got a problem with be being here? I’m fucking hurt-”

Rick rolled his eyes and reiterated the question. “ _Why?_ ”

Negan looked a bit sheepish. “It’s not like I _want_ to be up this goddamned early, believe me. I forgot I needed to take another elective this semester, and it was slim pickings this late into registration. It was between this and an eight am ceramics class. Figured getting to look a naked people for a few hours was better than trying to make fucking pottery or some shit. Thought the models would be like…actual fucking _models_ , you know? Like I came in expecting some young Kate Winslet looking chick telling me to draw her like one of my French girls. But I’m not picky. I can swing with some hot fifty-somethings. Cougars love me.”

Rick made a disgusted noise in his throat, eyes narrowing. “The models aren’t there for you to fucking _leer_ at, Negan, it’s a drawing class, not  _Titanic_.” A question occurred to him suddenly. “What the hell is your major that you’re taking art electives?”

“Photography,” Negan replied, and then snorted at the disbelieving look on Rick’s face. “What did you think it was? Accounting?”

“I don’t know,” Rick answered honestly. “Law, maybe. As much as you like to run your mouth.”

Negan clasped his hands over his heart and staggered back with an exaggerated look of pain. “You fucking _wound_ me, Rick. I’m a creative soul. Can’t draw for shit, though, so this class isn't gonna be a walk in the fucking park I hoped it would. Can I cheat off you? If I pay you, will you do an extra sketch for me? Doesn’t have to be great or anything, just a quick one, I'm taking maybe C, maybe B minus level work here, nothin' fancy. I’m guessing you’re better at this than me since you’ve always got that sketchbook with you.”

“No,” Rick said curtly, turning on his heel and making his way to his next class. Negan bounded after eagerly, draping one arm over Rick’s shoulders before Rick jerked away with an incredulous look.

“Fine, fine. I get it- you’re a real goody-two-shoes by-the-books kinda guy. Whatever floats your boat, Rick. How about this- maybe you give me some pointers, huh?” Rick quirked an eyebrow up at him, and Negan grinned, looking thrilled to have Rick’s attention again. “How about you model for me, give me a little one-on-one session? I’m sure I can think of some way to pay you back-”

Rick snarled and wrenched away, glaring as Negan smirked flirtatiously down at him. “Fuck you,” he seethed, drawing his shoulders up and turning his back on the boy. He could hear Negan’s mirth-filled laughter echoing down the halls as he retreated, the sound ringing in his ears all the way to his next class.


	3. Take Me Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I was really determined to update this every monday but the last two days were crazy busy finishing up the semester. Back on track!

“So you got some total jerkoff, huh?” Shane guffawed into his beer before setting it back down on the bar countertop, missing his coaster and shaking his head in mock solemnity. “I told you- didn’t I tell you, man? You’ve got the worst fuckin’ luck with this shit. Remember that guy you had too room with at summer camp back in the tenth grade?”

Rick groaned and downed the rest of the drink he'd been nursing since they'd first arrived and ordered nearly an hour ago, remembering those two hellish weeks vividly. “Owen Wolfe. Yeah, I remember him. Woke up to him tryin’ to cut my hair in my sleep. I’m still pretty sure he stole my camp shirt and threw up in the care package my mom sent.”

Shane spread his hands, as if to say _see what I mean?_ “I told you, man. You should have just fucked off and followed my lead straight to the academy. We could be learnin’ how to book guys like that. Instead, you’re off drawin’ naked people and shit- and they’re not even hot, you’re drawin’ little old ladies and balding dudes with saggin’ balls-”

“I didn’t want to just _follow_ you, Shane,” Rick snapped, a week’s worth of pent-up frustration loosening his tongue a bit. He wasn’t normally one to try to stir the pot when it came to Shane. He smiled and nodded and inwardly cringed at some of his friend’s more sexist epithets, but he didn’t poke or prod. For a friendship as long and deep as theirs, Rick felt a strange sense of fragility surrounding it. Maybe because he and Shane hadn’t had any major fallings out since elementary school, when they’d waged wars over who supposedly cheated at Madden. For Rick, he felt it was always better not to rock the boat when it came to Shane.

Luckily, Shane didn’t seem to notice his clipped tone- probably because he was far more drunk than Rick, downing tequila shots like they were water. Silently, Rick wondered how he and the rest of his cop-in-training buddies that had accompanied them on their night out planned on getting up bright and early tomorrow morning to start their week. One of them, a guy named Mills, had chugged a toxic-looking green cocktail not five minutes after their arrival, chased it with a half dozen shots, and was now being corralled by two of his buddies after taking a near-nosedive onto the pool table and getting side-eyed looks from several patrons and security. 

“Look, man, I’m just sayin’- what the hell are you gonna do when you get outta school? You gonna be like- the next fuckin’ Picasso or something? How you gonna live, man? I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole or anything, but-”

 _Not tryin' to be an asshole, but you're bein' one all the same_ , Rick thought bitterly. “I don’t know, Shane,” Rick bit out, peeling the label off his bottle and shredding it just so he could have something to do with his hands. “I don’t. I never knew what I wanted, though. Not really. But this is what I like doin’. May not get me rich or famous, but it’s somethin’.”

Shane blinked slowly at him for a moment, looking like the gears of his tequila-steeped brain were fighting to hold onto Rick's words before he shoved Rick's shoulder fondly, shaking his head and finishing off his beer. When he looked back over at Rick, it was with humor in his eyes. “You’re right. Long as it’s what you like, right? I feel bad for just ditchin’ you last minute like that and leavin’ you with some asshole roommate- you know I do, right? But this is what I wanna do. And so far, I’m pretty damn good at it. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Rick tried not to let on how deeply that stung- it was selfish, he knew, to want Shane to be just as nostalgic about their past as he was. When Rick thought of the happiest he'd ever been, it was back when it was just him and Shane against the world, brothers in imaginary arms. He knew that wasn't right, though, and it certainly wasn't right to hold Shane to all of that, either. Maybe it was just because he felt so utterly directionless and homesick since they’d gone their separate ways. Even after just a week of classes, Rick had been pining for the comfort of home, and just being back for the weekend felt like a bittersweet reunion. “Good for you, man," Rick said, desperately wanting to be a good friend and truly mean it. "I’m glad. And don’t worry about Negan. He’s a dick, but he’s…I don’t know. He’s not all bad, I guess. Hasn’t stolen any of my clothes, at the very least." Though Rick wouldn't past him to try. 

Shane laughed. “Well, that’s somethin’, at least. And hey- if you get outta school and painting’s not workin’ out for you, I’ll be your fuckin’ sugar daddy. We’ll hole up in some tiny-ass apartment and you can have my adopted babies and be a real cute stay-at-home daddy.”

Rick snorted loudly and slugged his friend on the arm, rolling his eyes. “Shut the hell up, man.”

* * *

By the time they left the bar- or were all but _kicked_ out, more like, as Mills had just barely been caught by Shane and another cadet as he’d careened into another group’s table- Rick had more than sobered up from his two beers. Shane bid him a brief goodbye before jogging off to join his friends as they’d piled into an cab together, and Rick found himself replaying the night over and over again in his head on the hour-long drive back to campus. He hadn’t wanted to be out so late- it was well past two when he'd left the bar, but Shane had insisted that he come out with them. He’d been busy both Friday and Saturday, and Rick was desperate to see him, just to remember that he _had_ a friend. Not being close to anyone on campus had left him with a crushing loneliness that soaked down down to his bones and made him feel heavy and morose, and while hanging out with Shane at a crowded bar with his cadet buddies wasn’t how he’d wanted to spend the night, it was better than not seeing him at all. At least he'd thought it would be- despite getting to spend time with his best friend, Rick felt a distinct, unsettling distance between them even when they’d been together. He’d already been feeling it just while texting him throughout the week and over the summer, but he’d written it off as nerves about going their separate ways.

Now he was starting to think that it was something else entirely, something more than just growing pains, and the though terrified him to his core. Shane had been in his life ever since he could remember, had been like a second brother to him. His parents had treated Shane as one of their own. He’d come with them on long vacations, to visit grandparents- he was as permanent and steady a fixture in Rick’s life as his own flesh and blood. The thought of not being attached at the hip like they’d always been wasn’t just a sad one- Rick couldn’t picture it. He’d never known life without him.

 _You’re being dramatic_ , Rick chided himself as he pulled into the student parking garage and hunted down a spot. _Shane may be changing a lot, but he’s not leaving you behind._

Still, as much as he tried to convince himself, Rick found himself tossing and turning in his tiny dorm bed that night, replaying how Shane had told him that _you should have just followed my lead straight to the academy._

All his life, he had been following Shane. It had been the easy thing to do- Rick had always been the more cautious, more reserved of the two. Making friends and charming people had come so naturally to Shane, and Rick had reaped the benefits of his outgoing nature for years, following him from friend group to friend group and naturally being included because he was _Shane’s friend Rick._ Sometimes it had bothered him how everyone in his life felt secondhand, but that was just how it went. He wasn’t a leader, he'd always told himself. He was a follower- he followed Shane wherever he went like a loyal dog, worried that he couldn’t make it on his own.

Now, he couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen if he didn’t want to fall underneath Shane’s command anymore.

* * *

Rick was resigned to the notion that he’d never get enough sleep on Sunday nights to make Mondays even remotely bearable. His alarm blared every ten minutes, and he hit snooze like the clock owed him money, slapping a hand down onto the button and praying that the next ten minutes would leave him gloriously well-rested.

He needed a shower, though- he reeked so strongly of booze and smoke from the bar that he could smell it seeping into his sheets, and it was that more than the alarm that saw him rolling out of bed and trudging down the hall to the bathroom.

“Mornin’ Rick,” Negan grunted when Rick nearly walked right into him. He looked about as awake as Rick felt with his dark was hair sticking up in untidy spikes on one side of his head and one cheek showing the indentations of where his face had been pressed into the pillow. Rick squinted down at that boy’s tiger-print boxers.

“You ever wear pants?” he asked, and took it as a sign of just how much Negan was not a morning person that he merely grunted out a _no_ in response before making a move toward the bathroom. Rick lurched toward the door, sealing his hand over the knob. “Hey! I was just about to take a shower-”

“So was I. So move outta the way.” Negan covered Rick’s hand with his own in a bid for the shower, and the warmth of the touch had Rick instantly jerked away like he’d been shocked. Negan grinned triumphantly and stepped inside. “Fucking thanks, Rick, you’re a real doll-”

Rick made an irritated sound and charged in after him, shoving the shower curtain out of the way and turning on the hot water. “You’re not gettin’ in here before me, Rick," Negan warned behind him, "I don’t have time to wait on you, and believe me, I need a damn shower. You don’t wanna know what I’ve got all over me from last night. Hell, I don’t even think _I_ wanna know what I’ve got all over me-”

Rick ignored Negan with an irritated flip of his middle finger over his shoulder, still adjusting the water temperature. He waited for the other boy to leave, but then there was a pair of warm hands circling his hips and jerking him back with surprising strength for someone so lanky, and Rick yelped in surprise, stumbling back and glaring, open-mouthed, as Negan strutted forward and stuck his hand under the spray, grinning. He’d clearly woken up at the chance to get on Rick’s nerves. “Perfect, thanks a fuckin’ million, Rick! You should probably just skedaddle along to class now, I’m gonna be a minute.”

Rick snarled low in his throat and made the bold move of stepping up into Negan’s space, yanking him by the arm. “Get the hell out.”

Negan smirked down at him, tongue poised between his teeth in a way that looked both ridiculous and hungry all at once, and it made Rick want to see his teeth punched bloody and red. “You wanna fucking fight me for the shower, Rick?”

He clearly didn’t expect Rick to rise to the taunt, and that was his mistake. The look of utter shock on Negan’s scruffy face when Rick shoved him back and drove him up against the bathroom wall with a forearm across his collarbones was deliciously satisfying, and Rick threw the boy’s taunting smirk back up at him. “Yeah, I do. Get the fuck out of here, Negan.”

He got to enjoy his win for a few hard-won seconds before Negan, quick as a flash, twisted out of his grip and reversed their positions, pinning Rick to the wall by his wrists and pressing in so that his bare chest pressed against the thinly worn fabric of Rick’s t-shirt. “Aw, Rick,” he crooned directly into Rick’s ear, so close that he could feel warm breath tickling his skin and sending goosebumps prickling up and down his arms, “do you _really_ wanna play your-dick-is-bigger-than-my-dick? Because mine is. We _both_ know it.” Rick glared fiercely up at him, silently scourging himself for the kiss of heat that he felt touching his cheeks at the insinuating words.

“I dunno, Negan,” he taunted, unsure of where the words were coming from. Boldly, he gave Negan’s crotch an obvious once over before letting his eyes flick back up to the boy’s face. “It's like I said the first day- it doesn’t look like much to me.”

Negan’s cocky façade didn’t so much as waver- if anything, his eyes lit up with a gleeful humor that Rick wanted to smack right off of his smarmy face. _How delicious_ , he thought, _would shock look replacing that bastard's stupid smirk?_ “Maybe you wanna get a better look then, Rick. I promise you I got a hell of a lot to offer in that department.”

“I’ll pass." Rick replied evenly. 

“You sure about that?” Negan released Rick’s wrists and stepped back, toying with the hem of his boxers. When Rick simply gritted his teeth and kept up his heated glare, Negan chuckled fondly. “Alright, suit yourself. May wanna get the fuck out, then.”

“I’m taking a fucking shower, Negan.”

Negan shot him an artfully smug look before hooking his fingers into his boxers and yanking them down his legs, throwing them in Rick’s furiously blushing face. “I think not, Ricky-boy. Unless you wanna join me…?”

Rick turned on his heel, unable to look Negan in the eye or anywhere else, swearing as he threw the boxers back at him and stormed out of the bathroom, muttering curses under his breath.

In the end, Negan was still holed up in the bathroom three minutes before class was meant to start and Rick finally had to give up and resign himself to a day of smelling like an ashtray. The shower had long since been shut off, and Rick strongly suspected that Negan was hoarding the room for himself just to make the point that he could. He quickly changed out of last night's clothes and pulled on something he hoped was clean, having to forego contacts in favor of his glasses since his case was in the bathroom, before rushing to class, catching an amused once-over from Carol when he slumped into the room looking a bit worse for wear.

“Rough night?” she asked breezily as Rick took a seat beside her, and Rick snorted.

“Rougher morning,” he replied, the statement punctuated by Negan striding into the room looking fresh-faced and wet-haired with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he pulled up an easel beside Rick. _Asshole_ , Rick thought scornfully, _he was waiting on me to leave before he came out._

“Je- _sus_ , Rick. You look shitty. The bedhead with those fuckin' curls doesn’t fuck around. You look like that Flock of Seagulls guy, but with a goddamned perm.” He leaned in and took a deep whiff, and Rick was tempted to respond by kicking his easel over just to get him away. “Smell like you used cigs as deodorant, too. You smoke? You know that shit’ll kill you, right?” When Rick still blatantly ignored him, he cocked his head and scooted closer, tapping the rim of Rick's glasses. "These are fuckin' _cute_ , though, I gotta tell you. I've been waiting to catch a glimpse of you in these since I saw you had contact solution and shit beside the sink. Too bad you reek-"

Rick snapped his sketchbook shut and hissed, “Maybe if _someone_ hadn’t decided to whip his dick out to prove a point-”

Carol choked on a fit of surprised laughter beside him, and Rick cut himself off, face flaming.

“At least now you know for sure whose is bigger,” Negan mused.

Rick mustered up the most deadpan look that he could. “Yeah, I sure do,” he sneered, “you gonna try to tell me it was just cold in that bathroom?”

Negan’s simpering look wavered for a moment when he caught sight of Carol muffling laughter behind her open sketchbook. “You tryin’ to hit below the belt, Rick? C’mon now, don’t pretend you weren’t impressed.”

Rick leaned into the backrest of his bench, feeling like he’d somehow miraculously come out of this with some dignity intact. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to impress me.”

Negan grumbled under his breath as Andrea stepped into the classroom, and Rick caught something that sounded an awful lot like _I’ll show you hard._

* * *

“Why d’you never come to any of the parties on campus?”

The question made Rick glance up from the sketch he’d been working on at his desk and turn in his seat to see Negan lingering in his bedroom doorway and looking at him expectantly.

“I dunno,” Rick answered, feeling suddenly a touch awkward, “I, uh…I don’t usually know when they’re happening.”

Negan strode in, watchful hazel eyes flicking around and taking in Rick’s décor in a way that left him feeling self-conscious. “Your friends don’t tell you? Or are they fuckin’ party poopers, too? Your friend from life drawing seems like she knows how to have a good time, but what do I know? She may spend her weekends bakin’ cookies for the elderly or some shit.”

Rick dropped his eyes and scuffed his socked feet against the nubbly carpet. “I don’t really have any friends on campus. Carol’s…I dunno. She’s nice, but we never get past small talk in class.”

“You like her?” Negan probed curiously, and Rick shook his head.

“Not like that. She seems cool, I guess. I don’t know anything about her.”

Negan half-sat on the edge of Rick’s desk, thankfully mindful of the drawings scattered over it. “Why don’t you ask her, then?”

Rick groped for words, an explanation. Of course it would be as easy as _just ask her_ to Negan. “I have trouble talking to people sometimes. I never know what’s alright to ask or if they want to talk to me at all.” The admission felt like he was baring too much of his throat, and he rubbed his palms over the knees of his jeans. He could feel Negan staring down at him, his gaze intense and searching.

“You gotta talk to people to make friends, Rick,” he offered, sounding gentler than Rick expected.

Despite his tone, Rick glared up at him with annoyance. “Never heard that before. That’s brand new information, I’ll keep that in mind,” he snapped defensively. Negan took it in stride- it was strange, how quickly he could shift from intrusive asshole to genuine human being. Being around him made Rick feel like he was in danger of getting whiplash. 

He seemed to sense that he’d struck a nerve and turned his attention to Rick’s desk, eyes roving over the framed photos. He picked up the one of him and Shane, tilting his head. “This your boyfriend?” he asked curiously, his usual teasing malice still absent, and Rick barked out a laugh.

“Fuck no. That’s my best friend, Shane. He’s like a brother to me- hell, he’s been in my life as long as my actual brother has.”

Negan nodded, setting the photo down. “Never had a friend like that,” Negan said quietly, “never had a brother, either.” It struck Rick as odd that Negan, thrower of massive dorm room parties, sounded almost like he was _jealous_ of him. The moment was quickly lost, though, when Negan glanced up at the poster over Rick’s bed and said, “nice vagina.” 

Rick internally groaned. “It’s a Georgia O’Keefe. It’s a flower.”

“No fucking duh, Mr. Art History. I’m just sayin’- everybody knows her paintings look like vaginas.”

“You know she didn’t actually like that interpretation of her art?” Rick countered. “It was all other people making that judgment about her work and not actually her.”

“That’s the point of art,” Negan replied, “ different interpretations.” He glanced down at the sketches on Rick’s desk, smoothing them out. Rick stiffened, feeling suddenly on display in a way that he’d rather not be in front of Negan.

“They’re just…rough sketches.”

“Mm,” Negan hummed, “that why this looks like a lizard with a jumbo-sized dong? Because that’s exactly what-”

Rick snatched the sketches up, flushing hotly. “They’re nothing. They’re sketches. One of my professors suggested I do abstract mockups for a painting.”

“I definitely see a lizard dick in there.”

“Why the hell are you in my room?” Rick wanted him gone- the moment of gentle inquisitiveness was over.

“I wanted to see if you wanted to come to a party with me tonight. You’re always fuckin’ holed up in your room. You gotta be bored as shit in here.”

“I don’t really…party,” Rick said honestly. The idea of going somewhere with lots of people and only knowing Negan, who would doubtlessly ditch him as soon as they arrived, was pretty low down on his list of ideas of a fun Saturday night.

“Bull-fucking-shit. You got back last Sunday at like 3 am and reeked like a fraternity basement the morning after pledge week.”

“I went out to a bar with Shane and some of his friends while I was home,” Rick told him. “They have a smoking area and apparently Shane picked up the habit recently. I had two beers and drove back to campus.”

Negan pushed up off the desk, offering up am outstretched hand to Rick, wiggling his fingers. “God, you’re boring. C’mon, blue eyes. Let me show you a good time tonight. Give you the full college experience.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Rick replied, turning back in his chair to refocus on his work.

“Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun, I swear. Get a couple drinks in you, let that fuckin’ party animal that I _know_ is inside you out to play.” He paused, then offered up, “I’ll keep my hands to myself if that’s what you’re worried about. Scout’s honor.”

“It’s not. I just don’t wanna go to a party with you, Negan.” He could still hear the other man breathing behind him, and sighed, realizing how rude he was being. “I appreciate the offer, alright? It’s just not for me.”

Negan was silent for another couple seconds before he said, “Fair’s fair. I’m gonna leave my number on the counter in case you change your mind, alright? We should probably have each other’s numbers anyway, in case one of us gets locked out or some shit. Have fun with your lizard dick painting.”

Rick listened as he walked away, heard the click of the lock sliding into place as Negan left. He picked his pencil back up and returned to sketching, part of him wondering idly what would have happened if he’d gone with Negan after all.

* * *

Rick was jerked into wakefulness at the tender hour of four-thirty in the morning by the abrupt slam of the front door and what sounded like someone throwing shit around in the living room and cursing with no thought to the fact that there was someone who may be asleep at this hour. Rick groaned, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes.

The cursing didn’t seem to be letting up, so Rick found himself on his feet and trudging tiredly out into the common area to see a red-faced and livid-looking Negan kicking one of the kitchen chairs over.

“Fucking no good sonofa fucking _bitch_ thinks he’s gonna get away with this bullshit-”

“Negan,” Rick ground out, gesturing to the upturned chair, “why?”

Negan blinked up at him, the anger never disappearing from his face. “Why? Because I’m fucking pissed, Rick. That’s fucking _why_.”

“I worked that part out on my own, actually. I was more askin’ why you’re so pissed at almost five in the mornin’.”

Negan sneered at him, mouth curving into a mockery of a smile. “Oh, I’m so fuckin’ sorry I woke you up, princess. Jesus, I wish I’d just taken Dwight up on his offer to be roomies, you know that? Sure, him and Sherry are annoying as shit, and I didn’t really want to see them suckin’ face every ten goddamned minutes, but at least they wouldn’t throw shitfits every time I made a little bit of noise. You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that, Grimes? Comin’ in here all self-righteous and gettin’ in my face every damn day, I’m fuckin’ sick of it. So you got woken up a couple of times- who the hell cares? It’s a Saturday night, you got Sunday school in the morning or some shit?”

Rick’s eyes narrowed, his patience already worn thin. “No, but-”

“Then get off my fuckin’ dick about it!” Negan shouted so close to Rick’s face that spit hit his cheek. “You uptight, whiny little _prick_! There are bigger fucking problems in the world than you missing ten minutes of beauty sleep.”

Rick exhaled heavily through his nose, staring Negan down with hate in his eyes. It would be so easy to pick a fight with him right now- the boy already looked like a raging bull, feet stomping the ground as he readied himself to charge at the nearest flash of red.

He was also, Rick noticed now that he got a proper look at him, rather scuffed up. His usually slicked hair was in disarray and hanging in his eyes, one of which was ringed by a nasty shade of purple. His lower lip was split, blood drying on his chin and the front of his dirt-smudged white shirt.

“What the hell happened to you?” Rick asked, and then, because he was feeling exhausted and vindictive, added: “you try to feel somebody else up or something?”

Negan snarled with disgust, fists clenching at his sides, and Rick took a wary step back, ready to fight the charging bull if he had to. But Negan simply wilted, looking suddenly defeated and weary and miserable. “Fuck you, Grimes,” he spit over his shoulder as he trudged into his bedroom, and Rick was left standing in the living room wondering what the hell had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the first few chapters of this have been kinda slow, sorry about that. I feel like things pick up in the next chapter, though, hopefully you guys will agree.


	4. Make A Night Of It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up for brief non-graphic mentions of attempted sexual assault.

Sunday evening, Negan all but kicked down Rick’s bedroom door while he was painting, clad in black from head to toe. Rick opened his mouth to lay into him, but Negan shushed him with a wave of his arms and a roguish glint in his eyes that told Rick that no good could come from what he was about to say.

“I’m enlisting your help, Rick.”

Rick set down his brush and shot Negan the most deadpan, unamused look he could muster. “You’ve got a whole lot of nerve coming in here askin’ for my help after the shit you pulled last night-”

Negan pulled out Rick’s desk chair, never dropping his grin. “This is about that, actually. Don’t you want to get some sweet, sweet revenge against the rat bastard that woke you up last night?”

“ _You_ woke me up last night.”

Negan dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, but I’m takin’ about the _reason_ I woke you up last night, Rick. The root of the problem. The rot that’s fucking eating away at this campus. You’re a good, well-mannered southern boy- I know this is gonna sound like it goes right against the grain of your high-horse holier-than-thou philosophy, but know this: the bastards we’re doing this to _absolutely_ have this shit coming.”

“You say that like I’ve already agreed to this.”

“You will,” Negan promised.

“Why the _fuck_ would I do anything to help you after how you’ve treated me?” Rick snapped, brush still in hand. “You’ve been nothing but a dick to me since I’ve moved in, why the _hell_ you think I’d help you, especially after you screamed in my face last night-”

“We’re breaking into the Alpha Beta Gamma frat house and fucking their smarmy _my-daddy-will-sue-you-if-you-look-at-me-funny_ shit to hell and back.”

“ _No_ ,” Rick groaned, feeling the beginnings of a migraine gathering at his temples, “we’re not.”

Negan gave Rick a patronizing look, one that said _you’re being difficult and I’m a saint for putting up with you_ , and the insane irony of such a look on Negan’s face made Rick want to use Negan's smirk to wipe his paintbrush clean. “We sure at shit are, Rick! You wanna know why though, right? Because you’re a good boy, you’ve got your morals.”

Rick decided that if Negan called him a _good boy_ one more time he was kicking him out and investing in a padlock for his door. “I’ve got a _scholarship_. I’ve got a job at this school. I’ve got student loans and parents that will be so unbelievably pissed if I’ve racked up two years’ worth of college debt just to get kicked out because I decided to egg a frat house with my idiot roommate-”

“Rick,” Negan intoned, suddenly serious. Rick cut himself off mid-sentence, words dying on his lips at the look on Negan’s face. The boy was so relentlessly jovial all the time that when he did suddenly appear to be serious it was alarming. “If I promise you- fucking _swear_ to you- that we won’t get caught, will you hear me out? Just hear me out.”

“How the hell can you promise that?”

Negan’s mouth curved back into his usual self-assured smirk for a brief second. “I just can. I’m _good_ at this shit, Rick. This ain’t my first rodeo. If nothing else, I’ll swear that if shit starts going sideways, you can bolt and I won’t think less of you for it. I’ll cover for you. But I need to do this, alright?”

Rick felt a frustrated scream building in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down, curiosity winning out over his better judgment. Curiosity, and maybe a little hapless rebellion. “Fine. Tell me why you want to incur the wrath of the Alphas. Then I’ll give you an answer.”

Negan’s face was alight with both triumph and something grim, and he leaned forward over the back of the chair, getting as close to Rick as he could without toppling over and joining him on the floor. “I was at an Alpha party last night. I usually don’t fuck with them because, well, they’re a bunch of fucking _pricks_ , but Mark was being a pissbaby about something and wouldn’t let me drink at his place so I figured I’d give it a shot. So I went. It was a dark and stormy night-”

“It didn’t rain last night.”

Negan’s face fell. “I’m trying to set the goddamned mood here, Rick. It’s called being a _storyteller_. You wanna hear what I have to say or not?”

“I’d like to hear it sometime _tonight_ ,” Rick retorted, and he could have sworn Negan almost laughed.

“Fucking _fine_ , Jesus. Anyway, I went to the party. Seemed normal enough at first, you know? Better beer than the usual because, you know, frat boys with their daddies' credit cards. But I fuckin’ digress. Apparently it’s pledge week, right? And we’ve all heard the horror stories, people with bags over their heads doing sick fucking shit to each other all for the privilege of licking the upperclassmen’s boots for two years before you become an upperclassman and get your own boots licked. I was expecting some middle of the road shit, you know? Have a couple fresh-faced froshes drink themselves stupid and maybe get their stomachs pumped. That’s what they did when I tried to get in.”

Rick snorted, easily picturing Negan as a freshman, chugging until he puked and then chugging some more. “Ah. I get it. You’re still bitter about them not letting you into the frat, right? You know, that’s not really what I had in mind when you said that they deserved it. Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna be helpin’ you out-”

“ _Rick_ ,” Negan said, a little more harshly this time. “I’m not done. Will you just let me talk?”

Rick sat back and let him talk.

“There weren’t fucking drinking games this time around. Not for the frat-wannabes, anyway.” Negan’s face twisted into a dark grimace. “The Alpha president now- he’s not the same guy as when I was a freshman.”

“Philip Blake, right?” Rick asked, the name suddenly coming to him. He remembered seeing his name pop up more than a few times in the school newspaper.

“Yeah,” Negan spit, and Rick was surprised to see that the word wasn’t physically flung from his lips to the floor for all the disgusted force he put behind it. “That’s the fuckin’ bastard. See, apparently drinking games aren’t enough for Blake. They were enough for the sorority girls that were also getting hazed- guess they thought they’d throw some big miserable bash to celebrate that shit. The sorority pledges were there getting hammered. Just absolutely balls-to the wall plastered. There were more girls falling down and puking into bushes and antique vases in that place than there were ones standing upright. And that’s where the frat hazing started.”

An unpleasant sinking feeling settled in Rick’s gut like a stone, his fingers clenched tight around his paintbrush hoping that Negan’s story wasn’t going where he thought it was.

“I didn’t drink that much- I don’t trust the Alphas for shit, and I wasn’t about to pass out there. It was about a half hour in that I started noticing that none of the other guys there were drinking much of anything, either. House full of smokin’ hot girls drunk off their asses and a bunch of sober guys willing to do anything to impress. You see where I’m goin’ with this, Rick?”

Rick nodded reluctantly.

“Yeah. So I started getting fucking itchy being there. Started wondering what the shit was going on. And then I started seeing guys seeking girls out, one by one. Pullin’ em off to the side. One or two got puked on, and I thought, ‘serves ‘em right’. Except then I walk by Blake and he’s with some pledge telling him, ‘See that girl there? That one’s yours’.”

Rick swallowed hard, feeling sick. Negan looked nearly green just recounting the story.

“So I followed this kid- some eighteen year old piece of human garbage half-carrying this fuckin’ tiny little blonde chick into one of the bedrooms. And the whole time I’m thinking, ‘surely not, surely he’s just gonna make sure she lays down and sleeps this shit off’. But I walked in and his pants were half off and her skirt was around her waist and I fucking _lost_ _it_.” There was a grim satisfaction in the way Negan said that, a vengeful fire in his eye that made him look menacing instead of just annoying. “I pulled that fucker out of there by his hair and started wailing on him. I was gonna kill him, Rick, I swear I would have if the rest of the fucking Alphas hadn’t jumped me. A couple pulled me off that piece of shit and threw me down the front steps, took a couple good licks for good measure. One of ‘em damn near broke my ribs, and when they finally backed off Blake was just standin’ over me, calm as could be. Like he fucking knew there wasn’t shit I could do about it.”

“Fuck,” Rick shook out, disgust coloring his voice. “Did you call the cops?”

“Yeah,” Negan nodded. “As soon as I got out of there. Campus police and then the real deal. They took my statement, and they broke up the party, but…nobody was questioned. They asked Blake to keep things from gettin’ out of hand and left it at that. Useless fuckin’ _pricks_.”

Rick thought of Shane then, of all the people he’d just hung out with last weekend, of himself and all the nights over the summer he’d laid alone in bed and seriously considered joining the academy because it would be easier than trying to make something of himself on his own. He’d heard stories like this dozens of times before, of course- on the news, on the internet, articles about affluent college guys who never saw the consequences for the horrific shit they did to other people. He hoped that Shane, that the people that Shane was hanging around with, were better people than the cops that Negan had implored to for help last night.

Rick wasn’t a cop, though. He was an art student who had kept himself on a leash for far too long, and what Negan was offering was a chance to _do_ something. Maybe it wouldn’t matter in the long run. God knows it wouldn’t do shit to change the minds of the cops or school faculty. But the idea of getting some kind of revenge, even the petty kind, on people like that…

“I’m in,” Rick said, voice full of conviction. Negan let out a loud whoop that their upstairs neighbors probably heard, but Rick didn’t care- his mind was already whirring. “We need to do more than just egg the frat house or some shit, though, you know?”

“Oh, I’m already two steps ahead of you, blue eyes,” Negan replied, extending one hand and hauling Rick off the floor. “I’ve been planning this shit since I woke up. I went to the hardware store and the dollar general and everywhere in between. These motherfuckers are gonna get fuckin’ _Home Alone’d_. Now-” he gripped Rick’s shoulders, giving him a slow once-over, “You got a black shirt and pants you can wear? Long sleeves- no skin showing.”

“I’ve got black pants, no long sleeved shirt-” Negan disappeared, running down the hall and then charging back and tossing a black hoodie at his face.

“Get changed. I’ll get you up to speed on the plan.”

Negan started giving Rick a rundown of his master plan, as he called it while Rick pulled on the hoodie and rummaged through his closet for a pair of black jeans. Negan didn’t seem keen on stopping, not even when Rick’s hands went for his belt, and he seemed to not see the pointed _get out_ look Rick was giving him. He was saying something about fireworks and webcams when Rick decided that he didn’t care and just dropped his pants, kicking them to the side. The room was suddenly quieter than it had been since Negan had entered, and Rick glanced up, pants in hand, to see Negan openly ogling him, hazel eyes eating up the exposed skin and clinging material of his boxer-briefs.

Rick flushed, clearing his throat and quickly squirming into the pants. Negan blinked rapidly and shook his head, tearing his gaze away from Rick’s crotch and back up to his face with a distracted look in his eyes. “Shit. Fuck. What was I saying? Didn’t expect you to drop trou there, Rick. Can’t blame a guy for losing his train of thought. Where was I? Oh, right- so I know this guy that works at the pizza place down the street-”

A half hour later under the cover of early nightfall, Rick and Negan were in the student parking lot clad in all-black with balaclavas stuffed into their jacket pockets, paying off a rather amused-looking pizza delivery boy by the name of Glenn.

“Thanks again for this, man,” Negan said, forking over ten for the pie plus a generous tip. “You sure your ass isn’t gonna be on the line for this? I’d hate to be the reason my favorite pizza boy got the axe.”

Glenn snorted, shaking his head and pocketing the cash. “It’s no problem, man. Worst thing that could happen is that they stop ordering from us- if anyone’s ass is on the line here, it’s the cook’s, and he’s a real asshole, anyway. Besides- the Alphas are shitty tippers.”

Negan snorted and placed the pizza on the hood of the car, flipping the lid open and sprinkling something powdery and translucent that disappeared as soon as it touched the hot cheese. He glanced back at Rick and Glenn, giving them a wink. “Touch of laxative. Maybe a little more than a touch- I’m not actually fuckin’ sure if I'm being honest. I got this biochem major that Sherry knows- real smarty-pants- to give me some pointers, but I decided I didn’t really fucking care to what degree these bastards shit themselves.” He flipped the box closed again and handed it back over to Glenn. “Alright, my man. Showtime.”

* * *

“You sure they’re not gonna wonder why they’re gettin’ a couple free pizzas?” Rick whispered as he and Negan crouched close together in the bushes lining the sides of the frat house.

“Nah,” Negan whispered back, eyes on Glenn as he made his way up the front steps and knocked on the door. “They’re college guys- they’re gonna take the free pizza. Trust me on this. Now shut the hell up, they’re gonna answer the door any-”

Rick clamped a hand over Negan’s mouth as the front door swung open. He could vaguely make out the sounds of Glenn and the door opener talking, and then a moment later Glenn was calling out, “Have a nice night!” And darting down the steps with empty hands. As soon as he disappeared from view and the front door closed, Rick felt a wet warmth on his palm and he barely managed to stifle a yelp as he wrenched his hand away from Negan’s mouth, looking at his licked hand in horror.

“What the _fuck_ -”

“Only time anyone should be covering my mouth like that is if they’re bouncing on my dick and someone’s in the next room,” Negan said smoothly, straightening and dusting off the knees of his pants. “You on my dick, Rick? Is there someone in the next room you don’t want hearin’ my dirty talk?” Rick answered by glaring furiously and wiping his palm onto Negan’s jacket. “Didn’t think so,” Negan smirked. “Now come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

Rick stood and followed Negan around the back of the house, the plan already laid out on his mind, having been over it nearly a half dozen times with Negan. There was a balcony on the second floor, the windows covered by thin curtains, looking like a calligraphed invitation that said _climb me_. Negan squeezed the back of Rick's neck briefly, shrugging off the drawstring bag on his shoulders and placing it gently on the ground. “You’re not gonna just ditch my ass once I get up there, right?” he asked with a teasing grin. “I’m counting on you here. If you don’t get these fuckers out of the house, they’re just gonna-”

“I can do it,” Rick assured him, taking a step to stand just underneath the balcony ledge with his hands cupped in front of him. “Now c’mere and let me give you a boost.”

Negan beamed and stepped up into Rick’s hand with one muddy, booted foot, hands pressing down on Rick’s shoulders and then the top of his head as he struggled to maintain balance. “You sure you’ve got this, Rick? You’re so fuckin’ short, I feel like I’m gonna crush your tiny ass-” Rick caught a faceful of Negan’s crotch as the boy climbed up him like a tree and felt his face grow warm. Negan wobbled unsteadily with one foot on Rick’s right shoulder and Rick bit his lip to keep from grunting in pain and annoyance.

“Just get up there already and we won’t have to worry about you crushin’ me,” he hissed in reply, hands coming up to grip Negan’s calves once both feet here on his shoulders and Negan was clinging to the ledge of the balcony.

“Almost there-” Negan muttered from above him, and suddenly he tried boosting himself by using Rick’s shoulders as a springboard, the force of his attempted jump sending Rick careening forward and tumbling into the grass, swearing profusely under his breath.

“Shit, shit-” Rick rolled over to see Negan still clinging to the edge of the balcony, feet scrabbling at nothing. He let out a snort of laughter that he quickly muffled with his hand, tears of mirth in his eyes. “Pull yourself up, jackass!” he whispered.

“Easier said than done, Rick!” Negan snapped in a hushed tone as he tied to kick one leg up onto the ledge. “Shit, fuck, fucking fuck, fuckity fucking-” he grunted and Rick, nearly beside himself with laughter, whipped out his phone and took a quick shot of the boy struggling to pull himself up. Negan froze at the sound of the fake camera shutter, and Rick had a strong suspicion that if he’d had a hand to lend to it, Negan would be flipping him off right about now. “That’s great. That’s real cute, Rick. You wanna help me out here, or you just gonna sit on your ass and watch me suffer?”

Rick shoved his phone back into his pocket with a roll of his eyes and stepped back up beneath Negan, hands beneath the soles of his boots. “You can’t do _one_ pull-up, Negan? Just one? I think you owe me an apology, talkin’ about how you were gonna crush me. I can at least do a pull-up.”

“What do you want? A goddamned trophy? You help me up and I’ll get you one _. Rick-fucking-Grimes, doer of one single pull-up_ …yeah! I’m up.” Negan whispered down to him, and Rick glanced up to see him clambering over the railing and fully onto the balcony. He shot Rick a thumbs and Rick gave him a curt nod before sneaking back around to the front of the house, snatching up the drawstring bag on his way. He crouched in the bushes again for a moment, pulling on the balaclava and fishing out a lighter and a couple of the firecrackers stuffed inside.

 _God, I hope this works,_ he thought.

He lit the first one and tossed it onto the front porch, waiting a few moments as the fuse burned down and shrieking noise erupted before taking off at a run, dropping firecrackers every few yards or so, lighting them as he went. He distantly heard shouting behind him- angry, confused voices and then, over the noise of crackling fireworks- “I see someone!”

And that was his cue to run like the goddamned wind and pray that his two years of track in high school had paid off in the long run. He heard vague shouts behind him as a dozen royally pissed frat boys chased him into the night, dodging firecrackers and cursing whenever another one went off.

Rick reached for the last one as he neared the actual campus, lighting it and dropping it in the grass before scrambling for cover as he skidded into the courtyard. He was still far enough ahead that they couldn’t see him for all the buildings, and he made a snap decision, jerking off his balaclava and rushing into the student center, one of the few buildings that was still buzzing with activity this late at night. He ducked into the closest bathroom, chest heaving with labored breaths. It was empty, thankfully, and he crowded himself into one of the stalls, nerves firing with adrenaline. He was sweating, naturally, dressed in all-black and having sprinted a good half mile in the summery heat. He leaned against the wall of the stall and stripped off Negan’s hoodie, stuffing it into the bag and giving himself a minute to catch his breath before stepping out and splashing some cool water on his face. He waited there a few more minutes, always cautious, before wandering out into the student center common area and making a beeline for Java Jam, craving a strawberry frappe.

Maggie was working behind the counter again- in fact, she was the only one behind the counter, and she looked less than thrilled to see Rick walking in at- _whoops_ , he realized as he glanced at his phone to see if Negan had given him the all-clear yet- four minutes to closing.

“What can I get ya?” Maggie drawled, and Rick gave her an apologetic smile.

“Would it be too much trouble to get a strawberry frappe?” Maggie looked him up and down, taking in his sweaty shirt and damp hair, a question in her eyes.

“Guess not. Sure looks like you need it.” She turned to start making Rick’s drink, and Rick glanced out the glass window to see several frazzled and _pissed_ guys come pouring into the student center.

“Shit!” Rick hissed, and Maggie nearly dropped his cupful of unblended strawberry syrup and ice.

“What the hell’s your problem-”

“Hey, uh…” Rick leaned over the counter, imploring Maggie with huge, pleading blue eyes. “If I tip you real good, can I just duck behind the counter here real quick? Just for a minute, till those guys clear out-”

Maggie followed his gaze to the Alphas and her eyes hardened the same way Negan’s had when he’d told Rick about what he’d seen last night. “Yeah. C’mon. I’ll cover for you if they come askin’.”

Rick breathed out a hundred hushed  _thank-you_ s as he ducked behind the serving counter. Maggie began wiping down the cappuccino machine and Rick held his breath, hoping that the Alphas would leave quickly. The good news was that if they were still out looking for him, Negan had plenty of time to enact his half of the plan.

“So what’d you do to the Alphas that they’re lookin’ for you?” Maggie asked casually.

Rick laughed quietly. “I, uh. I set off some fireworks on their lawn? But that was only the distraction.”

“The distraction from what?”

“My roommate’s back at their place fucking up the plumbing so that the toilets all overflow. Oh, and he sent them a couple pizzas laced with laxatives. Plus he's settin' up some cameras to keep an eye on them.”

Maggie snorted with laughter, her nose crinkling. “Not that I mind in the least, but why?”

Rick scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the green tile floor. “He saw some real bad shit go down at a party of their last night. The cops wouldn’t get involved, so he decided to get a little revenge of his own. It’s petty revenge,” Rick admitted, “they deserve a hell of a lot worse. But It’s better than nothin’. And he figured that if anything like that happens again he may have a shot at takin' em down if he's got video proof.”

Maggie was silent for a long moment before speaking again, her tone filled to the brim with barely restrained rage. “They deserve a hell of a lot worse. Your roommate- what’d he say they did at the party?”

“I-”

“They were gettin’ the sorority girls drunk, weren’t they?” she asked, and Rick heard the sharp edge of pain in her voice. “Tryin’ to-” she swallowed hard, dropping her rag on the counter and glaring at the floor with hate in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Rick said quietly, feeling the overwhelming urge to reach out to this stranger and pull her into a hug. “He said the cops broke the party up, but didn’t question anyone.”

Maggie laughed mirthlessly, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah. I bet that’s exactly what they did.” She sniffed hard and kicked at an empty plastic trashcan. “Fuck! I’m sorry. I just…I was at one of those parties last year. I was lucky- lucky, because all that happened to me was that fuckin’ prick of a president Philip Blake got my shirt off and got handsy with me before one for my friends came in and dragged me out of there.” Maggie stopped short, pink tinting her cheeks. “Shit. I, uh. I don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this, strawberry frappe boy.”

“It’s alright,” Rick reassured her, unsure of what else to say. “I’ve been told I’ve got one of those faces that makes people wanna spill their guts. If it makes you feel better, those guys should up shit creek, literally, in about a half hour.”

Maggie smiled weakly. “Helps a little. They’re gone, by the way.”

Rick stood and slid out from behind the counter. His phone vibrated in his back pocket- a text from Negan. _Hope these fuckers have got their shitting pants on. We’re all clear. See you at home._

Rick grinned up at Maggie. “Mission accomplished. Hey- you don’t have to do that, I know it's past closing-” he said, waving her off as she blended his drink and pressed it into his hands.

“On the house,” Maggie replied with the first genuine smile he’d seen on her. “Here, take a couple of these, too. My boss just has us toss ‘em at the end of the day, and it seems like a waste.” She pulled a couple of giant snickerdoodles out of the pastry case and slid them into a paper bag. “For you and your roommate. For fightin’ the good fight.”

Rick gladly accepted them and shoved a wad of ones into the tip jar. “Thanks.”

“No problem, strawberry frappe boy.”

Rick’s mouth curved up into a smile. “It’s Rick.”

* * *

Back at their room, Negan was lounging on the couch with a beer in his hand, looking like the cat that got the canary. “Rick! Come one over here and celebrate with me, darlin', we did a beautiful thing on this fine Sunday night.” He held out a bottle to Rick, looking delighted when he took it and settled onto the couch next to him. Rick tossed the bag of cookies in his lap.

“Made a friend while I was hidin’ out from the Alphas. She was a fan of the plan.” He took a long drought of the beer, sighing contentedly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Negan asked around a mouthful of snickerdoodle. “Gettin’ one over on pricks like that. Wish I’d been able to get a picture of them when they came running back- I think one had already shat himself.”

“You leave the note?” Rick asked.

Negan nodded, reciting, “ _Merry Shitmas, assholes. There’s a lot more where this came from. Don’t fuck with any more sorority girls unless you want round two. We've got eyes on you.”_

Rick leaned back into the couch, propping his feet up on the wobbly coffee table. “Thanks,” he said, the weight of the night finally settling in, “for askin’ me to help you. You’re right- it did feel good.”

He felt the warmth of Negan’s arm draped over the back of the couch, nearly over his shoulders. “Anytime you wanna raise some hell, Rick. I’m right there with you.”


	5. And Not the Other Way Around

Rick woke up to the feeling of something warm and heavy draped on top of him and soft puffs of breath tickling his cheek like a summer breeze. It was all rather soothing for a minute, and he allowed himself to lay curled on his side, eyes still closed to the harsh light of morning as he enjoyed the press of warmth all around him.

And then the warm thing atop him shifted and sighed, and Rick’s whole body grew tight as a bowstring as the memory of last night came flooding back to him and all at once he realized who was draped over him like a blanket.

“Mm,” Negan hummed tiredly, rubbing his face into Rick’s shoulder. Rick’s eyes shot open as he felt an arm winding around him like an embrace, and he ungracefully spasmed out of Negan’s hold and onto the living room floor, taking several empty beer bottles off the coffee table with him as he went.

“-the fuck…?” Negan groaned as Rick lay prone on the floor, slack with horror. “Rick?”

“Nope!” Rick yelped, voice a handful of octave higher than usual as he tripped over himself in an effort to get into the bathroom. “Not me! Taking a shower!” He paused in the doorway and peered across the narrow hallway, nudging Negan’s bedroom door open with his foot to get a peek at the clock. “It’s quarter ‘til eight, by the way. May wanna get up. We’ve got class.”

The groan Negan gave him at that news was loud enough to be heard through the bathroom door as Rick shucked off his clothes and clambered into the hot water, deeply relieved that he had enough time to rinse the sweat-and-firework-ash smell from last night off of himself. He let himself go lax beneath the warm spray as it soothed the strained ache in his thighs and calves. It was a perfect moment of solace right up until a gust of cool air intruded and his eyes fluttered open to see Negan, stripped down to nothing and still half-asleep, trying to join him.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Rick shouted, his voice ringing in the tiny space. He groped wildly for the shower curtain, covering himself and staring at Negan in horror. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?”

Negan looked completely unperturbed by Rick’s outburst. “I’m takin’ a shower, Rick. I spent the night arm-deep in frat boy plumbing, you _really_ think I’m not gonna want to get that shit off of me?”

“ _Get the fuck out of here!_ ” Rick barked, the cool air mixing with the burning heat creeping over his face and chest, “are you fucking insane?”

“It’s just a _shower_ , Rick, Jesus, we’re all adults here,” Negan said in a tone that was far more reasonable than his actions. He reached for the shampoo- Rick’s shampoo, in fact- and Rick swatted his hand away. “Aw, don’t be like that, blue eyes, it’s not like you weren’t stripping down real nice for me last night-”

Rick cut Negan off with a deadly glare and _somehow_ , it actually worked- the other boy huffed an exasperated grunt and stepped out, wet and shivering on the tile floor. Rick jerked the curtain back into place, fuming. _Just when I think he’s alright, he does shit like this. Who the hell thinks it’s okay to just-_

“Save me some fucking hot water, Rick! And hurry the hell up- I’m gonna be late to class!”

* * *

Negan was a full half hour late to class, but he walked in with such an air of smugness that it hardly seemed like it.

Rick crowded himself close to Carol and kept his nose in his sketchbook as he painstakingly worked on capturing today’s model’s soft, rounded belly.

“You never sit with your roommate,” Carol noted aloud as the class began to wind down and Andrea took one last glance at her student’s sketches. Negan was lingering, Rick noticed, taking his sweet time neatly putting away his sketchbook and pencils.

“We’re not close,” Rick said shortly, this morning’s antics still fresh in his mind. Negan was going to follow him out and walk him to his next class, he just knew it, and he didn’t want any part of it.

“He a huge jackass or something? Because, no offence, he looks like the type that would be a huge jackass.”

Rick gave a hearty snort of laughter as he tried to rub his charcoal-smudged hands off on the knees of his jeans. “That about covers it, yeah.”

“I’m hurt, Rick. After last night- and _this morning_ -” Negan’s voice suddenly graced the side of Rick’s face in the form of coffee-soaked breath and Rick breathed heavily out through his nose.  Negan waggled his eyebrows in a terrible attempt at flirtation and Rick could only imagine what Carol was gleaning from this conversation. “I thought we were well on our fucking way to being best buddies.”

“You’re an ass,” Rick seethed in reply. He went to shove his sketchbook into his bag only to be stopped by Negan’s grabby hands tugging it from his grasp. Rick slapped a palm onto the cover, glaring. “You wanna give that back?”

“Not even a little,” Negan answered, jerking the book fully from Rick’s hands. “I wanna see if you’re drawing more lizard dicks in here.” He rifled through the pages, humming appreciatively at Rick’s class sketches. “These aren’t half bad, blue eyes. Got any hot tips to share? I’m over there lookin’ like I shoved the pencil halfway up my ass and tried to draw like that.”

Rick snatched the sketchbook back. “Maybe you should give that a try.” He shoved to his feet and Carol, he noticed, stuck close, seeming to sense that Rick didn’t particularly want to be stuck alone with Negan.

“I don’t think Andrea and the rest of the fine folks in this class would appreciate that shit too much-” Negan started, but Rick was already out the door.

* * *

“-in the _shower_ , Carol! I mean, who the hell does that?”

Carol, for all her excellent skills as a shoulder to whine on, looked about to burst with laughter when Rick’s tale of the last day and a half came to a close. It was late Monday evening and the two of them were holed up in one of the open studios on the fifth floor of the art building with boxes of Chinese takeout spread out like a poor man's picnic on the ancient paint-spattered table between them. Carol had followed Rick out of class that morning, her watchful presence thankfully warding off Negan's advances, and had offered Rick an evening out of his dorm and away from Negan. Rick had practically pounced on it- he’d much rather be splitting veggie fried rice and watching Carol paint than deal with whatever inevitable nonsense that Negan was doubtlessly planning for tonight.

“At least you were the one that got to shower first this time,” Carol pointed out, jabbing her red-tipped brush in Rick’s direction. Rick muttered mutinously under his breath and stabbed a piece of sauce-soaked chicken with a chopstick, popping it into his mouth and chewing like Negan was the one of the receiving end of the gnashing teeth.

“Yeah, well. I can’t wait until I can switch up roommates next semester. Anything’s gotta be better than this.”

Carol shrugged and returned to her painting, the warm red on her brush blending with the wet, muted yellow already on the canvas. Rick wasn’t quite sure yet what she was painting- when she’d first set up over an hour ago, he’d been positive that it was a portrait, but he’d left for twenty minutes to pick up their food and when he’d returned, the colors had melded into a warm swirl of something that he couldn’t pick a noticeable feature out of. It was peaceful somehow, though- all light and softness that made Rick flash back to evenings spent with his friends back in elementary school, chasing the dying sunlight on their bikes as they zoomed through his neighborhood, pokemon cards stuck in the spokes because they thought it sounded cool.

“I don’t know,” Carol said, “it could always be worse. You could be stuck with one of the freshmen that were at that party.”

Well, damn. “You got me there,” he admitted with a frown. “Just wish I didn’t have to worry about him…you know. Invading my privacy. Shit like that.”

“Oh, he’s a fucking menace,” Carol agreed, “I’m not arguing with you there. But…I still say you should talk to him. _Really_ talk to him, sit him down and tell him he’s making you uncomfortable. You said he apologized, _actually_  apologized after he touched you, right?” Rick nodded. “So he’s not completely unreasonable. He knows there’s limits.”

“Most people would generally agree that trying to get in the shower with someone you barely know is a hard limit."

Carol laughed. “Well, your guy seems like kind of an idiot, so let’s assume that he just needs a gentle reminder. And if he does it again, you kick his ass. He’s skinny, you could take him. I’d put money on you if it came down to it.”

Rick laughed, cracking open a fortune cookie as he did. “Thanks, Carol.” He pulled the slip of paper out, reading it over. “ _You will find what you need in an unexpected place_ ,” he read aloud. “And my lucky numbers are…1, 4, 8, 16, 44, and 51.” He popped half of the cookie in his mouth, happily crunching away. “Good thing, too. I’ve been lookin’ for my favorite shirt for three days now.”

“You _eat_ those things?” Carol asked, shaking her head. She stepped back and tilted her head at her work, smoothing a hand through her short hair.

“Looks good,” Rick said honestly, ignoring her jab about the cookie and admiring the painting  with her. She had orange oil paint trailing up her arms and underneath one eye, and he thought he caught a streak of red in her short hair.

“Thanks,” she smiled, “you wanna join in? I’ve got an extra canvas stashed in here. Already gesso’d up and everything.” She didn’t wait for a reply, crossing the room and rooting through the drying racks before pulling out a messily-stretched canvas, the fraying, uncut edges stapled more than a few times to the wood to keep it down. “It’s not a great one, I just learned how to stretch them myself a week ago, but it works all the same.” She pulled up a second easel beside her own, fidgeting with the height for a second before stepping back and handing Rick a brush.

“I, uh…I don’t know what to paint,” Rick confessed.

Carol grinned. “You’re a planner, huh?” Rick gave her a hangdog shrug and she laughed, rooting through her well-worn shoulder bag and coming up with a few tubes of oil paint. “You like that with everything? Got your life nailed down to a T? Five year plan, six figures by age twenty-five, all that shit?”

Rick nearly fell over laughing at the notion- six figures at _any_ age, much less four years from now. “Damn, Carol. You’re funny, you know that? Never would have guessed that about you before. Six figures…” he shook his head, “Christ, I’m in fuckin’ art school, Carol. And not even like…some big fancy place, either. I don’t have _shit_ planned. I’ve barely got tomorrow planned.”

Carol nodded sagely, looking wise beyond her years despite the smudged makeup and paint decorating her face. “Ah, I get it. You plan everything out when you create so that you’ve at least got something figured out. Gives you something to hold on to, even if it’s just the one thing. You plan because you worry that if you don’t, you’re gonna feel about your art how you feel about your life-unsure.” Rick blinked, wondering where the hell that came from, and Carol grinned. "Sorry. I like trying to figure people out. I spent a long time sitting back and watching, trying to figure out who people were without having to talk to them. My ex was...possessive, you could say. Didn't like me having too many friends. So did I nail you, or what?"

“You’re readin’ too much into this,” Rick accused, feeling more than a little exposed at how easily she’d been able to see through him. “I just don’t know what to paint. Give me a minute.”

Carol ignored him and proceeded to squeeze paint out onto the glass palette on the table, careful not to mix the cool tones she’d pulled out for Rick with her own warm ones. “How about this, Rick- I’ll give you a little structure. I’m gonna mix your palette, and you’re gonna paint. Just do what I did- you think I went in with a plan?” She gestured to the strange, discorded painting shining wet in front of her.

“I just figured you were into abstract expressionism,” Rick offered.

“Nope. Well- maybe. I mean, they did automatic drawing- that’s what you should do. Paint and don’t think about it. Just put the colors where you want ‘em. It’s relaxing, creating something and not having an idea of what it’s gonna look like when you start. Keeps you from having expectations. Now go on.”

She gave him a gentle nudge forward and Rick obliged, swiping his brush through a rich shade of cobalt blue and tracing a smooth, gestural line across the canvas. His mind supplied “this is going to be a waste of paint,” but he tuned it out for once, instead letting his brain turn down to white noise while his hand worked, lines flowing from his brush without a second thought. Sometimes they were discordant, jagged lines bisecting arching curves in strange places, but occasionally, he caught a glimpse of something he liked- a blend of color he could have never achieved if he was trying to do it on purpose, a sense of harmony in the balance of it all. He wasn’t sure when Carol stepped back from mixing his colors for him, but by the time he finally stepped back to take in the piece as a whole, she was lounging behind him in a chair finishing off the last of the lo mein, her own canvas having been tucked away on the drying racks.

“Huh,” she hummed, stepping up beside him. “You use a lot of blue. I noticed that when you were in color theory with me, too. You tryin’ to be the next Picasso? This your blue period?”

Rick shrugged, a frown twitching at the corners of his lips. “No. I just do. I use a lot of cool colors. I like how they feel, you know? The mood they set.”

“It’s why professor Hovarth always said your work looked depressing,” Carol pointed out.

“It’s not depressing to me,” Rick countered, trying to find the right words to explain- he’d never been good at talking about his work during critiques, but now…now it was just Carol, and she wasn’t here to slap a grade on his painting or criticize his technique. She was just a friend that wanted to know. “It’s comfortable, you know? It’s like…when it rains and you wake up and your best friend’s at the front door wanting to make boats and race ‘em down the sidewalk.”

“That’s how the killer clowns getcha, so I’ve heard.”

Rick elbowed her playfully in the ribs. “You know when you were a kid and all you wanted in the world was to build a pillow fort? Just pull the cushions off the couch and get every quilt your mom stashed in the hall closet for winter and make a little world all for yourself. And when you climbed inside, everything was kinda dark, kinda dim, but you felt safer than you’d ever been in your whole life.” The look on Carol’s face told him yes- she looked soft and nostalgic, smiling at Rick’s painting with a new appreciation for it. “That’s why all the blue.”

Carol nodded. “Alright, blue boy. I get it. You’re the sentimental type. Wouldn’t have pegged you for it, but I hardly know you.” She gave one last fleeting look at Rick’s painting before she began to pack up her paint. “I think I’m starting to, though.”

* * *

 _Come out with us tonight_ , Shane’s text had read, glowing with harsh white light in the dark of Rick’s bedroom. _Hate that you’re always stuck on campus with that asshole roommate now. You ever get out anymore without me around? C’mon. It’ll be fun._

He could have said no- insisted that Negan was less of an asshole than he’d initially let on, could have told Shane about last Sunday with the frat house, or about the evening he’d spent painting with Carol, or how Negan had actually opted to join him on the couch to watch Zodiac on Friday.

But he didn’t. Instead, he called an uber met Shane and his buddies at a buzzing Atlanta bar on a Saturday night. Why they had to drive into the city to grab a few drinks was beyond him- the beer tasted the same despite being twice the usual price, but Rick sucked it up and shelled out the money for a couple drinks anyway.

There was something about being around Shane these days that left him feeling sad and small and inadequate, and he didn’t want to feel like that tonight. Their group had crowded themselves into two booths, and Shane, Rick noticed, clung to his side with an arm tight around his waist. They pressed close together in the booth, warm and buzzed and sneaking sips from the water bottle filled with vodka that Shane had carefully snuck in, and for once, for fucking once, Rick didn’t feel completely uneasy in the presence of Shane’s new friends. In fact, the way that Shane was laughing in his ear and sharing warm smiles with him, he felt the most like himself that he had in months.

“So how’s Jenny?” Rick asked, nudging his friend’s side. “She officially moved in with you yet, or are you still pretendin’ she’s not over at your place every damned night?”

Shane guffawed, cheeks ruddy and teeth flashing white in an easy smile. “Still pretendin’. I love ‘er, though, man. I really do. I dunno if I’m gonna marry her or anythin’ like that, but we work real well together, you know? She doesn’t expect me to be settlin’ down and slippin’ a ring on her finger, and that’s what I need. Someone who’s gonna let me just be a fuckin’ guy for a while, you know? She’s a wild one, too. Shit, the other night she was out with me and the guys talkin’ up all these girls at the bar, tryin’ to get one of ‘em to come home with us. Little extra fun, you get me?” Shane grinned. “No dice, but that’s just her, you know? Not the jealous type. Don’t keep me on a tight leash.”

“That’s uh…that’s good I guess. If that’s what you need,” Rick said into his drink. He was beginning to slip into a fuzzy haze, not quite drunk but certainly enough that Shane’s words weren’t enough to bother him. He knew what was coming next- it was what _always_ came next, and he needed to be less than sober to deal with the inevitable question.

“So how’s it goin’ with you, man? You met anyone on campus? Cute art boys? Hipster chicks?”

Yep, there is was. “Nope,” he answered, trying to ignore the niggling feelings of inadequacy that came with his perpetual singleness in the face of the fact that Shane’s almost-kind-of live in girlfriend was trying to hook him up with a threesome.

“Shit,” Shane slurred, tipping his head back and grimacing faintly as he knocked back the last of the smuggled vodka. “You’re a fuckin’ catch, man. Don’t know why you keep it to yourself.” He cocked his head at Rick suddenly, his grin sloppy but sincere. “You know I'd take you if I was a single man.”

Rick’s face flamed, and he rolled his eyes, taking another swig of his- _oh_ , now empty- beer. “Shut the hell up, man.”

“I would,” Shane insisted, now a breath away from Rick’s face and seeming not to care in the least that they were surrounded by his coworkers. “I always wanted to, you know? I had a crush on your for fuckin' years- and when you told me…you remember that car trip we took? With…who was it? Fuckin’…fuckin’ Sasha, that’s right, and it just kinda came out that we both swung that way? Shit, man, I thought for sure after that we were a done deal. Just never happened, though. You were with Lori and it just never happened-”

“Shane,” Rick said firmly, unease settling in his gut, “cut it out.”

Shane had that look in his eyes- the one Rick had seen more time than he could count when his friend spotted a cute girl across the room or a guy whose jeans clung to him just right. Except now he was looking at Rick like that, like he was the only one in the room if only for a moment, and to see that look on his best friend, his brother since before he could even remember…it was wrong. All fucking wrong.

“Probably better we didn’t,” Shane whispered, still looking at Rick in that hungry way. “What if we broke up or some shit, right? Could’ve ruined our friendship. But it killed me man, all those years of you sayin’ ‘we’re brothers, we’re brothers,’…” he shook his head, grinning wide and dopey.

It took Rick a second to school his face into something steely after Shane’s dismissal of those words- the words that had meant everything to him since he was a child. Shane didn’t seem to notice through the haze of drunkenness- his gaze dropped to Rick’s mouth, and suddenly Rick just didn’t _care_. The last time he’d kissed anyone had been over two years ago, when he'd seen off his high school girlfriend Lori before she’d packed up and moved to Washington for college. Two kissless years and vodka on his tongue and the loud, cramped, uninhibited space of the bar made him feel reckless and foolish and Shane’s words made him feel low and hollowed out, and Shane was the last person he wanted to be kissing, but he just didn't care enough to stop it.

So he met Shane halfway, lips sliding over lips, and it didn’t shock him when he felt nothing. It had been a long time, but he still had cherished memories of how warm and sweet Lori’s kisses were, how their first kiss had left him beet-red and stammering and feeling like his brain was fizzling out. This was nothing like that- with Shane, the only warmth came from the cramped space they were in, and Rick pulled back when he felt a large palm slide down his back and grab his ass.

Shane laughed drunkenly against Rick’s cheek. “You never even knew, Rick! All these fuckin’ years, you kept saying, we’re brothers, we’re brothers, fuck that!” Shane laughed, like it was funny, a _joke_ , like he wasn’t shredding something inside Rick that had been vital to his identity for longer than he could remember. “We’re not brothers,” he slurred, leaning into Rick’s shoulder heavily.

 _No_ , Rick thought bitterly, staring off at the other men around them that seemed to have completely missed the two of them making out in their midst _. No, I guess we’re really not._

* * *

It was past two when Rick’s ride dropped him off back on campus and he returned to his dorm feeling far too sober for how many thoughts were crammed into his head. Negan was sprawled on the couch when he stepped inside, one long leg draped over the back of it, his head propped at an awkward angle to stare at the laptop perched on his chest.

“Hey, there he is! What’s up, party animal? You have a wild time tonight? Cut fuckin’ loose?”

“More than I wish I had,” Rick answered dryly, shocking both himself and Negan into silence for a moment. The other boy ungracefully wriggled up to sitting on the couch, nearly upending his laptop onto the floor in the process.

“You wanna…talk about it or some shit?” Negan asked, and Rick stared at him, taken aback.

He surprised even himself when he crossed the room, dumping his phone and wallet on the kitchen table and collapsing onto the couch beside Negan, kicking his feet up. He wasn’t sure _why_ \- it was Negan, after all- but he did want to talk, to just get it all off his chest to someone.

“The friend I went out with tonight- we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Before, even. Our parents were friends, they had us, and then we grew up as best friends. He’s been like a brother to me for as long as my own flesh and blood brother has. I’d do anything for him, you know? That’s what we always said- _brother, I’d do anything for you_.” He felt his throat get thick and thrice damned himself for it, forcing it away. “Except I guess we’re not everything I thought we were all those years. Because I guess I wouldn’t do _anything_ for him. He was supposed to be my roommate this semester, but he dropped out. Decided to go to the police academy back where we grew up, and he wanted me to follow him there. That’s what I always did, you know? Followed his lead, went where he wanted to go, made friend with his friends because I had trouble makin’ them on my own. It just always worked out like that. But this time…I didn’t. I don’t have a good reason for it, either- not like I’ve got some plan for my life. But I didn’t want to follow him anymore, you know?”

Negan dipped his head in acknowledgment, but was, for once in his life, silent.

“So I guess that’s on me. I didn’t chase after him, and we started growing apart over the summer. And then tonight…tonight he tells me that he’s never thought of me as a brother. He tells me he’s had a crush on me for years. And that’s what he called it, too- a crush. He’s not _in love_ with me. He wants to fuck me. And maybe I should be flattered, you know? Because god knows nobody else has wanted to fuck me since high school, but he’s my fucking _brother_ \- I meant it when I said that shit. I did.”

“I’m sure other people have wanted to fuck you, Rick.” Negan offered as reassurance, and that was enough to get a laugh out of him- weak, a touch self-deprecating, but more than he had all night.

“Well, if they have, they sure as hell didn’t speak up about it. Which, you know- I can’t say anything.” He tipped his head back, looking up at the ceiling and watching the shadows the whirling blades of the fan made. “He wanted to kiss me, so I kissed him. It didn’t mean anything- he’s got a girlfriend who doesn’t care if he does shit like that, you know? Doesn’t care if he makes out with random people when he’s drunk. And that’s what I was tonight. I was some fucking person he made out with at a bar with liquor on his breath, and nothin’ else.”

“Do you want to be something else?” Negan asked quietly, and Rick shook his head.

“No. Not like that. I just…” he slumped into himself, all the energy to speak suddenly draining out of him. “I just wanted us to be like we were before. I wanted us to be best friends and stay the same way that we’d been since we were kids. But I’m starting to figure out that shit never stays the same no matter how much you want it to.”

Negan’s hand, warm and heavy, slid up between his shoulderblades, rubbing comforting circles. “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth, Rick.”

Rick breathed out a small chuckle, glancing over at Negan, who looked genuinely sorry that that was the way thing were. “Fuck. This must sound fucking stupid, right? I get kissed for the first time in two years and I come home complaining. That’s just like me.”

 “You don’t sound stupid, Rick. I get it. People aren’t who you expect them to be, who you want them to be. Who you thought they always were. And it fucks you right the fuck up when you find out.”

“That’s some pretty sound wisdom for someone who can’t find it in himself to put on pants half the time.”

Negan nudged at Rick’s foot with his own, which was clad in a pair of vibrant blue alien-print socks that matched his boxers. Nothing about him should have been a comfort to Rick, but somehow, for all of his dickish tendencies, he was. “Pants are for fuckin’ squares, Rick,” he proclaimed boldly like he was speaking the gospel, stretching out his lanky limbs onto Rick’s lap with an entitled ease that immediately had Rick torn between annoyance and a tiny sliver of amusement that he fought tooth and nail to suppress. He shoved the boy’s legs off of him and caught a glimpse of the laptop screen, craning his neck to get a better look.

“Are those your photos?” he asked, curiosity winning out over any kind of aloofness he wanted to keep up in front of Negan. This was something he’d been silently dying to know more about since he’d found out what Negan’s major was.

A hand reached around Rick and snapped the laptop closed, and for a moment, Rick almost felt guilty for poking his nose into Negan’s personal business. Then he remembered Negan grabbing his sketchbook and commenting on his work and barging into his room, and the guilt evaporated like a drop of rain on hot pavement.

“Sure are, Rick. And I see how you’re lookin’ at me right now- you want a peek. I fuckin’ get it. But you’re not lookin’ at my photos on a goddamned laptop screen the first time you see them. No fuckin’ way. You’re seein’ them the way they’re meant to be seen.” He shoved up off the couch and disappeared down the hall and into his room, and Rick followed, intrigued. He pushed the door to Negan’s room open to see the boy pulling on a pair of sweats, and instantly his eyes jumped to the walls, avoiding Negan’s lithe frame.

The photos on the walls were small, unframed, tacked up haphazardly at the edges. Some looked to be years old, were well-worn and taped together in places. There were messy clusters of them in between furniture, beside the bed and over his desk, some taped to the frame of the lone window. Rick stepped in close, roving over them all. They were mostly of people- he even recognized a few: the blonde boy and his companion from the night Rick had moved in, the waify girl that Negan had flirted with and her boyfriend, Mark. They were all candid- some at parties, booze and lit cigarettes and joints between fingers, some where they looked to be roaming around in the city, some in cars, shot from the passenger side or backseat. There were other shots, too- ones of a huge Saint Bernard with the happiest look on its drooling face, ones of shiny, sparkling vintage cars, the paint as glossy and saturated as if they were brand new.

Negan’s eyes followed Rick as he wandered around the room, not saying a word. There were two photos in particular above Negan’s bed that caught Rick’s eye and made his steps still, lingering on them longer than the others.  One was of a woman with a mostly burned-down cigarette poised between her fingers, her face lined and her hair greying, but there was something in her face- the strong line of her nose, the sharp, twinkling mirth in her hazel eyes, that allowed Rick to instantly identify her as Negan’s mother. The second was of Negan- one of the only ones that had Negan in it- and a girl that stood nearly as tall as he did with wildly curly black hair and a smile that lit up her face like a spotlight. They were a little out of the way of a crowd in the photo, rainbow banners streaming behind them as they cheesed it up for the camera draped in a flag striped blue, yellow, and pink. That same flag, Rick noticed, was pinned on the wall like a banner beside his closet. Negan looked a little younger than he was now- at least a couple years, his face clean-shaven and his hair cropped shorter.

“Smokin’ hot, isn’t she?” Negan rumbled behind him, and Rick couldn’t help but nod.

“Yeah. Who is she?”

“My ex,” Negan answered, only the barest touches of regret in his words. “Lucille. Dated senior year of high school and freshman year of college. That photo was probably six months before she dumped my sorry ass.”

Rick bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m, uh…sorry-”

Negan waved him off. “Don’t be. I deserved it.” The regret was a little thicker now, clouding his face when he looked at the photo with something like shame. “I fucked around on her. Still don’t know fuckin’ why. Loved her like crazy. You can probably tell where we are- she’s the one that took me. All but dragged my cowardly ass out of the house and led me around on a leash.” He gave Rick a lewd wink. “Not that we’d have been the only people there playin’ like that. But that’s not the point. She was the first person I told that I was battin’ for every team. Figured she was a safe person to tell since she’d been out and proud since ninth grade when she petitioned the school to let her bring her girlfriend to the freshman formal dance.” He chuckled fondly. “We weren’t meant to be- she’s real happy now. Engaged, even. But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret doin’ her like I did.” He frowned to himself, rubbing a sucked foot over a scuff on the floor. “Guess I’m just an asshole through and through.”

Rick nearly agreed with him- the snappy reply of, _yeah, I know_ , was poised on the tip of his tongue, ready to rip into Negan while he was, for once, vulnerable. But something stopped him- maybe it was the fact that Negan had been there for him tonight, or the apologetic tone he took when he talked about Lucille, or the fact that he had a picture of his mom lovingly tacked up over his bed, but Rick felt something in him soften to the boy beside him.

“Doesn’t have to be like that,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be like that.”

“Yeah?” Negan asked, mouth curved into a small smile. “You think there’s fuckin’ hope for me? The guy that’s been makin’ your life hell for the last three weeks?”

Rick nodded, surprising himself by reaching out to squeeze Negan’s wrist briefly. “Yeah,” he said, meaning it, “I think you’ve got potential.”

That made Negan’s grin spread to Cheshire proportions, looking nearly mad in his glee. “I knew you’d come around to me, Rick! So- whatcha think of all my fine photography?”

Rick pondered that for a moment- he liked the pictures a lot, more than he’d expected. “They’re more…sentimental than I would have guessed. I like that about them, though. They remind me of Nan Goldin a little bit-” he broke off, noticing Negan just barely smothering laughter into his hand. “ _What?_ ”

“I was fucking with you, Rick. This isn’t my actual work- this is just me takin’ pictures of my friends and my dog and shit. Think of this as my sketchbook, I guess. I mean, some of ‘em are alright, composition-wise, but they’re mostly just ones I shot on the fly. I appreciate your formal critique, though.”

Rick flushed pink. “Alright. Where’s your _actual_ work, then? Can I see that, too?”

Negan rocked back on his heels, scrutinizing Rick with his tongue between his teeth. Rick was about to snap at him to _say yes or no already_ when he finally spoke. “Not tonight, blue eyes. Soon, though-” he amended when Rick looked annoyed, “I’m just…not quite done with the series I’ve been workin’ on. It’s different than what I usually do, so I wanna get it right. But when I do, you’re gonna be the first one to know. I’ll give you a private show.”

Rick felt the head in his cheeks spread at the innuendo, and he tried to play it off, hoping Negan didn’t notice. “Why me?”

Negan’s dancing eyes betrayed nothing when he said, ever so simply, “because I fucking like you, Rick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting on this, it's very much appreciated <3


	6. Can We Pretend?

Rick was an hour into his Thursday oil painting class when he got a text from his mother that made him groan aloud, drawing the attention of several nearby students who glanced a him from around their easels.

_You’re coming home this weekend for your dad’s birthday, right? Your grandparents will be here and Jeffrey’s coming home._

Rick barely had time to think of a reply, let alone type one out, before his phone was ringing in his hand. He sighed, ducking out of the room and thinking _why bother texting if you’re just gonna call two seconds later_ , tapping the answer button and sighing out, “Hey, mom,” when he got into the hallway.

“Ricky, did you get my text?”

Rick scrubbed a hand over his face, laughter and exasperation mingling into an amused groan. “Yes, mom. You just gotta give me a second to type.”

She ignored that, going in for the kill. “You’re coming home, right honey? Fifty’s a big one, you know, and you didn’t come home last weekend. Shane said he saw you one night, though.” There was a note of motherly disapproval in her voice, and Rick’s heart sped up in his chest, palms sweating even though there was no earthly reason why Shane would tell his parents what had gone on between them. Most likely, his mother wouldn’t be surprised even if he had.

“When’d you talk to Shane?”

“Saw him at the grocery store with that girlfriend of his. She is just too cute, you know.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, I invited him to the party- he’s practically family, after all-” Rick suppressed a bitter laugh at that- “so you’d better be there, he and Jenny aren’t gonna have much to do sittin’ around with all us old fogies talkin’ about our medical problems like you always say we do.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally counting to ten and breathing deeply. The last thing he wanted to do was be stuck at a family gathering with Shane and his girlfriend- he barely knew Jenny, though she seemed nice enough, and Shane…after last weekend, Shane had been texting him like nothing had happened between them. Which, if he was being honest, Rick probably preferred to the alternative.

“Yeah,” he managed to get out, “I’ll be there.”

For the life of him, he had no clue what possessed him to say what he said next. Perhaps a fit of sheer insanity.

“I’m, uh- I'm bringing someone, if that’s alright.”

“Ricky!” His mother practically hollered into his ear, “That’s wonderful! Of course they’re more than welcome, of course, the more the merrier!”

He hung up a minute later with the excuse of “I’m in class right now, mom” in an attempt to dodge probing questions about his mystery guest. Rick slid his phone into his back pocket and slumped against the wall, overcome with the sheer stupidity of what he’d just promised. 

* * *

The feeling only worsened when he texted Carol later with the hope of getting her to be his plus one for the weekend and she told him that she was going to be working all weekend.

 _Sorry, Rick_ , her message had read, _but you know, there’s probably someone else who would be more than happy to be your date…_

 _That’s exactly what I’m afraid of_ , he’d replied, knowing exactly who she meant. 

He was about to call his mom and tell her that his nonexistent date was actually, _unfortunately_ , busy this weekend and he’d be attending alone, except that as soon as he got out of his last class of the day and checked his phone, he saw a missed call from Shane. He hit the call back button, and in less than two rings Shane’s voice was at a near-yell blaring through the speaker.

“What the hell, man? You’re seein’ someone? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? Chick or stick? What’s their name? How long?”

Rick sank onto a bench in the courtyard, head in his hands and likely earning some concerned looks from passerby at his obvious misery. “How the hell did you…I only told my mom an hour ago, are you guys on some secret gossip chain or somethin’?”

Shane’s laugh was a staticky rumble on the other line. “Dude, she straight up texted me askin’ who you were seeing. Figured I should know since I’m your best friend and all- and I can’t say I blame her! I’m kinda pissed here, man. Or I would be if I wasn’t so happy about you finally gettin’ some after all these years. You gonna tell me about it or what?”

“I’m not gonna…locker room talk with you in broad daylight in the middle of campus,” Rick protested weakly.

“Dude, I’m not askin’ for the nitty gritty! I’m askin for a name, a gender…maybe a word picture so I can decide whether or not they’re good enough for my best fuckin’ friend!”

“You’ll meet him this weekend, and I don’t really want you makin’ snap judgments _before_ you meet him-”

“Oh, so it’s a guy?” Shane teased, sounding delighted with this new information.

Rick swore under his breath. “Yeah. He’s a guy. He’s, uh…” what the hell was there to say about Negan? He’s an asshole? He’s the roommate I’ve been bitching to you about? “He’s somethin’ else. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him. Look, I gotta go. I’ve got class,” he lied, desperate to get out of this conversation.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop houndin’ you. But Rick- one more question.”

Rick sighed. “What?”

“You gettin’ dicked down by him yet?”

“I’ve gotta go!” Rick yelped into his phone, mashing the end call button like it would save his life.

He stared at it for a long moment after Shane’s caller id disappeared from his screen, a pit of anxious worry forming in his gut at the thought of the weekend to come. If Negan did say yes- which, despite Carol’s confidence, he wasn’t convinced was a given- he would be dependent on Negan’s willingness to play along for the whole weekend. He didn’t like the idea of being reliant on trusting someone so squirrely Negan seemed likely to pop off at the mouth and humiliate Rick just for a laugh.

Still- he didn’t see much of a choice.

* * *

“Hey, uh…Negan?” Rick called when he got back to their dorm, wandering down the hall to to where the other boy’s bedroom door stood slightly ajar. “Can I come in? I got somethin’ to ask.”

“Sure thing, Rick.” He was tucked up into a papasan, legs crowded and folded up so his whole body was curled in the chair like a baby bird in a nest while he stared at his laptop screen. It was almost cute, and Rick caught a smile trying to slide across his face. “Whatcha fuckin’ need, blue eyes?”

Rick ran a nervous hand through his hair, eyes bouncing from Negan to his unmade bed to his desk in the corner, cluttered with textbooks and crumpled paper handouts. “So I did somethin’ kinda stupid,” he began, and Negan’s eyes snapped up to him immediately, his interest piqued.

“That so? How stupid we talkin’ here? Misdemeanor or felony?”

“Neither.” Rick wondered if that distinction would have made much of a difference to Negan- wasn’t breaking and entering a felony? “I, uh…well, my dad’s birthday is this weekend. My mom’s throwin’ this big party- she likes doing stuff like that- and I kinda…told her I had a date I was bringin’.”

The reflection of Negan’s laptop screen lit his face up so that he looked slightly deranged in his glee. “ _Really?_ And why would you tell her some fuckin’ lie like that?”

That was the question Rick had been simultaneously asking himself and avoiding all day, but suddenly, when Negan asked it so plainly aloud, he knew the answer. “Because she told me Shane was comin’ and bringing his girlfriend and I didn’t want to be awkward and single and stuck there as the recently-hit-on third wheel. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Oh, I get you, darlin’. Loud and clear.” Negan closed his laptop and set it aside, all of his attention focused raptly on Rick. “But why are you askin’ me? Don’t get me wrong here- I’m fucking flattered as hell, but I wouldn’t think I would be your top pick for a fake date.”

“You’re not,” Rick said quickly, eager to dispel any notions Negan may be getting, “but Carol’s workin’ this weekend. So…you’re all I got.”

Negan blinked at him, his face a conundrum of blankness. “Pretty sad that Carol and I are your only friends,” he offered up, and Rick cringed.

“I have…other friends,” Rick said defensively, “I’ve got Shane. Got people back home.” People that he hadn’t spoken to since he left for the semester, people that he hadn’t been particularly close to in the first place- but Negan, thrower of parties that more people showed up to than Grimes family reunions, didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure you do.” There was a tone of condescension in his reply, but Rick gritted his teeth and ignored it. He was asking Negan for a favor, after all.

“So will you come?” he asked, meeting Negan’s gaze imploringly- he was above begging, at least for now, but he was banking on Negan having a weakness for blue puppy dog-eyes, what with his nicknaming and all. “There’ll be alcohol. Well- there’ll be wine and beer. I’ll drive you to the liquor store myself if you want somethin’ else. And free food. And-”

Negan held up a hand, smirking all smarmy and lopsided like he did. “Calm your fuckin’ tits, Rick. I’ll come. I can make it through a couple days without booze, by the way- I’m not a goddamned alcoholic. And I can’t tell you how long it’s been since someone cooked for me, so I’m fucking in. When do we leave?”

* * *

“You got any good music in here, Rick? Trust me, you don’t want me manning the radio the whole time, if I catch so much as a whiff of Katy Perry I will toss my goddamned cookies right into your glove compartment.” They were barely out of the parking lot and Negan was already restless in his seat, squirming and twisting around to reach into Rick’s cluttered backseat in search of cds.

“What the hell is this shit, Rick? _The Best of Bluegrass?_ Are you fucking eighty years old? Oh, You’ve got Tegan and Sara! That’s cute as shit. Anything else? You’ve got their whole goddamned discography back here.”

“Got The Smiths-”

“No. This is a road trip, Rick. Our first road trip as a couple-”

“We’re not a couple,” Rick groaned, feeling the smugness radiating off of Negan without even having to spare him a glance.

“We are for the next three days, darlin’. I’m just gearing up for my starring role. Getting into character. And unless you want my character to be a fucking depressing-ass motherfucker, you’ll play something other than the goddamned Smiths.” Rick heard the sounds of rustling in the backseat as he pulled onto the highway, and then- “Oh, shit! Hell yeah, this is what I was taking about, Rick- Queen! We’re gonna have a singalong, here, put this in.” He tossed Sheer Heart Attack into Rick’s lap and Rick one-handedly switched out the cds while guiding the steering while with his knee, smiling as the fanfare of Brighton Rock swam through the speakers.

“Got a lot of shit back here,” Negan noted conversationally, twisting around to sit properly again with an old sketchbook clutched in his hands. “Can I look through this?”

Rick quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re asking for permission now?”

Negan shrugged. “I dunno. Figured I should probably start. I’m tryin’ to work on being, you know- less of an asshole. Like you told me I could be.” He sounded a little embarrassed by the admission, but Rick felt something in him warm at the thought of Negan wanting to be better because of something he’d said.

“You want to prove me right?” he asked.

“I guess. Fuck you.” Negan rubbed a thumb along the spiral binding of the sketchbook. “I just…I don’t want to be the guy I made you think I was when you met me. Especially what I did that first night. That was more than just me being an asshole.” He shook his head, and Rick caught a glimpse of soft, shame pink rising in his cheeks. “So can I fucking look through this or what?”

“Yeah,” Rick said, “go ahead.” He felt that familiar twitch of apprehension and vulnerability that came with letting someone see his work, but it was lesser now after Negan had showed him his own sketchbook-of-sorts.

“You’re good with watercolor,” Negan noted as the thumbed through the pages. “That mostly what you do?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. I’m tryin’ to pick oil painting up, but it’s frustrating. Takes forever to dry, cleanup's a mess. I mostly just like drawing, and watercolor works better with that.”

Negan nodded, lingering for a long moment on one page, and Rick glanced over to see what was keeping his attention to see that it was a two-page spread of studies of his own face that he’d done over the summer. Rick felt embarrassed heat crawl up his neck, making sweat prickle under the collar of his shirt. “I’m no good at drawing myself. I always feel like I either try to fix the shit I hate or make it into a caricature-”

“Shut up and let me fucking enjoy it, Rick,” Negan replied. There was a softness to his voice that Rick didn’t understand. “There’s nothing to fix. These are…they look really fucking great. Look just like you. I like this one a lot-” he tapped one of the drawings and Rick glanced over to see that it was one of just a small sliver of his face, all oversaturated blue eyes and the bridge of his nose. “Those fuckin’ _eyes_ , Rick. Goddamn.” Negan’s eyes were on him now, watchful and probing in their intensity as Rick flushed and tried to concentrate on the road.

* * *

The ride went by quickly and more smoothly that Rick could have dreamed, the hour passing easily as Negan manned the radio and complained about how one of his professors had barred him from solo use of the darkroom.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know there was a security camera in there? You make out with a guy next to the developer chemicals _one_ time and they act like you’re a threat to school security.”

“There are, you know, _chemicals_ in there,” Rick pointed out as they pulled into his neighborhood. He was grateful for Negan’s easy way of keeping conversation flowing, it had kept his mind off of the nervousness that now gnawed at his insides as he pulled up in front of his parents’ house.

“We were careful. Nothing spilled, nobody fuckin’ died. It’s not like we did anything x-rated in there.” Negan grouched. He peered out the window at the house. “We here? This is cute, real white-picket-fence shit, Rick.” He reached for the car door handle, and Rick panicked and slapped his hand across Negan’s chest, shoving him back into his seat and trapping him there before he could get any further.

“What the hell, Rick?”

Rick turned his head to face him, face deadly serious. “For the love of _god_ ,” he hissed, “do not- and I’m gonna say it again, do _not_ , pull some stupid shit to embarrass me this weekend. Please. That’s the complete opposite of why I brought you here, alright? So I’m asking you to please, just for two and a half days, be a person. Just a normal fucking person who doesn’t parade around the place in Scooby-Doo boxers or bring a bottle of rum into the shower-”

“You really think I’m gonna do that shit around your _parents_?”

“-or be a dick,” Rick finished. “Can you just pretend like you’re a good boyfriend? Can you do that for me?”

Negan rolled his eyes and reached for the car door again. “That’s why you fucking brought me here, Rick. Have a little faith.”

“And maybe try to tone down the swearing around them,” Rick added as they walked up the front porch steps. “I mean, they’re not gonna say anything about it, ‘cause you’re a guest, but it won’t make a great impression on-”

“Ricky!” His mother burst through the door before he could even raise a fist to knock, beaming out at them both. “And your…friend!” She faltered around the word, unsurprisingly, but to her credit she looked no less happy to see that Rick had brought a boy home to meet her.

“Boyfriend,” Negan corrected smoothly, offering up a hand that she accepted in a friendly shake.

“Of course. I wasn’t sure- Ricky didn’t tell me much about you- keeps his cards close to the vest, this one,” she said with an affectionate ruffle of Rick’s hair. “He just told me he was bringing someone. Didn’t even tell me your name,” she scolded, and Rick flushed pink.

“It’s Negan, ma’am.” Negan shot her a winsome smile and Rick felt the anxious knot in his chest loosen just a little at Negan’s effortless charm.

“Well, Negan, how about you boys come in. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Negan answered as they stepped inside.

“I can make you boys some lunch if you want, I was just about to make myself a grilled cheese if you’d like.”

“That sounds just dandy, Mrs. Grimes,” Negan crooned trotting after her into the kitchen. The syrupy sweetness of his voice dripped so heavily that Rick feared they’d all get cavities just listening to him. He did feel vaguely nauseous.

“You can call me Judy, Negan. We’re all friends here,” Rick’s mother said warmly as she began pulling cheese and ham out of the fridge.

 “Well thank you kindly, Mrs. Judy,” Negan drawled in a molasses-thick accent that was so clearly exaggerated that Rick felt a little bit of his soul leave his body. He shot Negan an incensed look of horror over his mother’s shoulder and he laughed. “Sorry,” he said shaking his head in mock attrition, “been spending so much time with Rick and his sweet drawl that I slip into it sometimes. Isn’t he just a peach?” Negan’s tongue was between his teeth, looking like he was biting back his own laughter.

Rick’s mother, oblivious to her son’s distress, just smiled as she began prepping the sandwiches. “So you boys must have gotten pretty close in these few weeks. I can’t tell you how happy it made me to hear that Ricky was bringing someone home for the weekend.”

“Oh, we’re _real_ close,” Negan agreed. “It was love at first sight with us. He just walked into our dorm that first day and I thought to myself, ‘Negan, there’s the love of your life’.” He slid an arm around Rick’s shoulders, grinning wildly. “Ain’t that right, _Ricky_?”

Rick seethed around a “sure.”

“You’re his roommate?” His mother asked, eyes flicking toward her son accusingly. “He never told me that…well, you two certainly must be spending a lot of time together.”

“Every chance we get,” Negan chirped, “we are like two fu- _freaking_ peas in a pod.”

Rick's mother smiled and turned to her son. “Your grandparents are taking Jeffrey’s room and Jeffrey’s sleeping on the couch,” she began, “I suppose we could look into going to get an air mattress for one of you boys? Jeffrey’s already out picking up some things from the store for tomorrow, I could call and ask him to pick one up.”

Rick was about to wholeheartedly agree when Negan jumped in, looking ever so earnest when he said, “Mrs. Judy, that’s not necessary. Rick and I can bunk together, can’t we, Rick? We’re used to cuddling up on those twin-size beds in the dorms, so I’m sure we’ll be cozy as a couple of damn kittens.”

Rick sucked in a breath that he hoped didn’t sound too horrified, waiting for the inevitable lecture about how _she wouldn’t be comfortable, would rather them not, and think of if your grandparents saw, Ricky._ Back when he was with Lori, there were no sleepovers to be had, no closed doors or hands below blankets, and the implication that they were sleeping together would have sent his mother into a small frenzy of panic and disapproval. The only good news was that she would stop Negan’s suggestion of _sharing a goddamned bed_ right in its tracks.

“Oh,” she said simply, a note of surprise and slight discomfort in her tone. “Well. I wouldn’t normally- I mean…but you’re adults, I suppose.” Rick’s heart dropped into his stomach. “And you’re already, you know…roommates. It would be easier. But just...keep everything PG, alright, Ricky? Your grandparents are right down the hall and I know your father wouldn’t be comfortable with you-”

Rick spluttered in shocked indignity, horrified with this turn of events. “ _Mom!_ ”

His mother shot him a sharp, knowing look. “I’m being reasonable here. It’s a couple of days. I know you’re growing up and you’re on your own, but I’m just asking you to respect the house rules for the weekend.”

“No- I mean yes, _yes_ , that’s fine, completely fine, more than fine! We won’t- I’m not- we…”

Negan smiled winsomely at Rick’s mother, looking like he’d won the lottery. “No problem, Mrs. Judy. We’ll be good. You won’t hear a peep from us.”

* * *

They scarfed their sandwiches and retreated up to Rick’s bedroom, eager to get out from under the watchful eye and probing questions of Rick’s mother. Rick tossed Negan’s overnight bag in the corner and rounded on him, face ablaze.

“Why the _hell_ did you say we’d share my room? Are you out of your goddamned mind? In what world- in what vast realm of fantasy that you live in did you think I would want to spend my weekend sharing a bed with you?”

Negan gave him a feigned look of offence, nose crinkling as he collapsed bodily onto Rick’s bed, making himself right at home. “Jesus, Rick, calm your tits. I was trying to be thoughtful- your mother’s just such a goddamn sweetheart, I didn’t want her to go to any trouble.” It was such a paper-thin excuse that Rick was sure the slightest breeze could rip it to shreds. Negan’s face betrayed not even the slightest hint of remorse.

“You’re just tryin’ to make this weekend as difficult as possible for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m just trying to have some fun with it, Rick.” He patted the empty space on the bed beside him expectantly like the lunatic he was. “Now, I’ve got a real important question for you, Rick.”

“Negan,” Rick sighed deeply, wondering if he should have just taken his chances playing twenty questions with his mother.

“I’m dead fucking serious, Rick. See this face? This is my shit’s-about-to-get-real face.”

Rick didn’t see a particular difference, but maybe it was because the main quality of Negan’s face was that it always looked delightfully punchable.

“Fine. What’s the question?”

Negan sat up, sliding over to the edge of the bed and taking both of Rick’s hands between his own, gazing up at him with earnest, too-innocent eyes. Rick set his jaw, tried to ignore the subtle flutter or warmth that spread through him at the touch.

“Rick Grimes,” Negan whispered, “are you a big spoon or a little spoon?”

Rick had been right the first time- punchable. He wrenched his hands away and reached for the door, deciding that he’d rather have every detail of his time at school wrung out of him by his family than spend another second being teased by Negan.

“Wait, Rick!” Negan called through his laughter, “so which one is it?”

* * *

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. As soon as they sat down to the table with Rick’s parents and brother and grandparents, he realized what a massive mistake he’d made in inviting Negan as his date. Why he’d thought it was a good idea in the first place he couldn’t begin to fathom. 

“So Ricky,” his grandmother began, eyeing the dark-haired boy to Rick’s right with open suspicion. “who’s your friend?”

“This is Negan,” Rick explained carefully before the other boy could jump in again. His mother was one thing- she'd known that Rick liked boys for years. His grandparents, however… “He’s my roommate at school.”

“You cold there, son?” Rick grandfather piped up, nodding to Negan’s leather jacket.

“Nah,” Negan shrugged, “Rick keeps me nice and warm.”

Rick hoped his face wasn’t as red as he felt, and he tried to ignore the hushed titter that fell around the table. Negan miraculously seemed to sense that he’d misspoken. “Just because- because he’s so- such a hothead, you know! Doesn’t take much to get him steamed. Just the other night he was gettin’ onto me about waking him up in the middle of the night. Thin walls in our dorm, you know. He’s an early bird if I ever met one. Not me, though. I’d sleep till the sun set if I could like a fu- like a vampire-” he broke off, realizing he’d been rambling, and cleared his throat. Rick swore he could see a faint blush coloring the boy’s cheeks. “This chicken’s delicious, Mrs. Judy. Been a long time since I’ve had a nice home-cooked meal like this.”

Everyone seemed to be grateful for the change of subject. Rick and Negan lingered downstairs after dinner, offering to do the dishes to avoid more conversation while Rick’s family retired to chat in the living room.

“Sorry about…with your grandparents,” Negan murmured low into Rick’s ear as he scrubbed at a plate. “I wasn’t thinking. That wasn’t me trying to be a dick that time, I just assumed they knew about you since your parents do.”

Rick shook his head. “No. I mean, even if they did they’d probably still just pretend you’re my friend. I have an aunt that’s been livin’ with her girlfriend for going on twenty years and my grandma still makes comments about how lonely she must be and how she’s gonna die an old maid.”

Negan grunted sympathetically. “That fucking blows.”

“Yeah. Could be worse, I guess. My mom’s fine with it, my brother’s never given me any shit, I didn’t lose friends when I came out. I’m lucky.”

“What about your dad?” Negan asked. “I think I caught him sizin’ me up over dinner.”

“I, uh. I never actually told him I like guys,” Rick admitted with a laugh. “I came out to my mom when I was fifteen, and I just kinda assumed she told him. I mean, she must have- he seems like he knows. But I’ve always been closer to my mom, so I felt more comfortable telling her. I don’t think he’s like- mad about it or anything. I just don’t think it’s ideal for him.”

“Maybe it’s just me,” Negan suggested helpfully. “Maybe if you come home next time with some sweet well-mannered artsy-fartsy he’ll be okay with it.”

Rick laughed. “Maybe.”

“So what do you do for fun when you’re home?” Negan asked as they put the last of the dishes away. “You always just go hang out with good ol’ Shane, or d’you do the same shit you do when you’re at school?”

“What shit do I do at school?”

“Watch movies. Paint. Read. Rinse and repeat.”

Rick didn’t really have a good retort for that because, well- that was most of what he did. “Yeah. Pretty much that. We can go out if you want to, there’s a bar nearby if you want a drink or somethin’.”

Negan shook his head and gestured for Rick to follow him up the stairs. “Nah. I’m due for a night in. Movie swap? You pick one then I pick one?”

“I don’t mind goin’ out,” Rick protested weakly, feeling embarrassed at his own hermit-ness. “I don’t want you to just stick around here all weekend bein’ bored. I mean- if it’s that you don’t want me comin’ with you, I can stay here and just tell my parents you went for a drive or somethin’…”

Negan stopped short in Rick’s open doorway, frowning down at him. “Rick. You don’t really think I’d ditch you here, do you? Jesus, I don’t have to be at a party every night. Most nights that I come home late- or don’t come home at all- I’m not even at a party.”

“Where are you, then?”

Negan flopped onto the bed, stacking the pillows behind him in a comfy headrest and flipping on the tv. “I’m in the photo lab most of the time. Been a lot of nights I’ve fallen asleep in there.”

Something about that image- Negan, pouring over his photos all night and collapsing into a tired lump at a table- made Rick soften, and he sank to his knees on the soft carpet to rifle through the dvds on the shelf beside the tv. “Ever seen Shaun of the Dead?”

“Nope! Put it the fuck in and get your ass up here.”

“Ah-” Rick eyed the close quarters of the bed and the way Negan’s arm was slung over the back of the pillow headrest like he was awaiting Rick’s company. “I think I’ll stick to the floor.”

Negan rolled his eyes dramatically, face lit blue by the glow of the television. “C’mon, Rick. I don’t bite unless you’re into that kinda shit. I’ll be a perfect fucking gentleman- hands where you can see them, alright? We gave your mother our word that we’d _behave_ ourselves.”

Rick eyed the boy on the bed suspiciously for a long moment before giving in and crawling up beside him. He tried his best to ignore the way their knees knocked beneath the comforter and their shoulders pressed warmly together and instead focus on the zombies. It was easy after a while- comfortable, even, having someone there beside him laughing maybe a little too loudly in his ear, but nothing about Negan right now felt like he was trying to make Rick squirm, which was a nice change of pace. By the time Rick’s movie was over and Negan had pulled up Netflix so they could watch Silent Hill, he was completely at ease.

And if he felt Negan leaning into him a little bit, well…it’s not like it was hurting anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the pretend relationship chapters begin!


	7. It's Funny You Should Ask

Rick woke with a crick in his neck and his head resting in the warm crook of Negan’s shoulder. He was too aware of how hot it was, heat surrounding him from all sides and making his cotton shirt cling to his back. There were arms around him, heavy but sleep-lax and easily maneuverable as he slowly extricated himself from Negan’s clinging grasp, doing his best not to wake the other boy. It was much less alarming to wake curled in his arms than it had been the first time, though the September heat made their accidental snuggling more sticky and uncomfortable than Rick cared for.

He wondered idly if he should be concerned that he didn’t mind Negan cuddling him like an oversized teddy bear as much as he had before.

The tv was still on, and when Rick grabbed for the remote to flick it off he checked the time on his phone- just past eight. Negan likely wouldn’t be up for hours yet if his usual weekend schedule of rising at half past noon was anything to go by. Rick decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet, not quite ready to venture downstairs and help with party prep just yet. Instead, he grabbed his sketchbook off the side table and popped in a pair of earbuds, settling back against the wall and letting his peaceful mood dictate the lines, working fast and loose as he sketched out his bedroom- he’d missed its homey comfort, the carpet that he’d dripped paint on so many times that it looked speckled in some places, the window looking out into the backyard where his childhood swingset still sat, the blue plastic swings discolored and faded from the sun and disuse.

He reached for the small bag he’d brought home for the weekend to find his travel set of watercolors, wetting his brush in a half-empty cup of water he’d been drinking from last night. He spent a while painting the swings over and over, remembering how as little kids he and Jeffrey had learned with their parent’s help how to pump their short legs to keep themselves moving without a helpful push, how he and Shane had spent hours outside trying to see who could get the highest or jump out of them the furthest.

He looked down after a while to see a page of faded blue swings, and suddenly he saw exactly what Carol had seen- his sadness and nostalgia was so plain to see on the thick textured paper that it almost embarrassed him. It was how he felt most of the time, though- a little embarrassed, a little sad, a little confused. He just hadn’t realized that he’d been feeling that way on this particular morning.

He dipped his brush again, swirling it through the water until it was tinted transparent blue. Determined to change things up, he stuck to warm colors, yellows and reds and oranges in between, only letting himself dip into the blue when he wanted to make a cozy shade of violet.

Rick was aware that as he painted he was glancing over at Negan, following the curve of his face as it was pressed into the pillow behind his head. It didn’t _mean_ anything- he just liked drawing people. Negan was a challenge, his contrary sharp jawline juxtaposed with the softness of sleep, the sheen of his untidy black hair where it stuck out in a bedheaded crown. He was fun to paint, and that’s how Rick justified it when, over an hour later, he realized he’d filled a full page, front and back, with small studies of a sleeping Negan.  

Blushing, he checked to make sure the paint was dry before he closed his sketchbook and stuffed it into his bag, hoping the other boy wouldn’t go through his belongings.

* * *

Negan trudged his way downstairs at six minutes to noon while Rick and his mother were in the kitchen blowing up balloons and pulling plastic serving trays out of the backs of cabinets.

“You sleep alright, honey?” Rick’s mother asked with a warm smile in the boy’s direction, “you want some breakfast?”

Negan poured himself into a stool at the kitchen counter beside Rick, taking up one of the yet-to-be-inflated balloons. “Just coffee for me, if you’ve got it. An’ I can make it, you’re busy-”

Rick’s mother waved him off, shushing his offer and grabbing him a mug. “It’s just one of the ones with the cups. Less than a minute, it’s no trouble. You’re a guest here.”

Negan sipped in between blowing up balloons and hanging streamers in the living room, eventually leaving Rick on the couch to make some toast after they were done. As he sat there with his thoughts and nothing to do with his hands, Rick felt himself growing more and more anxious about Negan and Shane meeting later that day. His fears were probably unfounded, he knew that. After all, Negan had been nothing but cordial to his family, and minus the whole incident where he’d wormed his way into sharing Rick’s bed, he hadn’t been a complete and utter ass like he’d been expecting.

There was just something in him, this strange, bottomless worry that he could dig and dig at and never find the root of. It was always there, but it was times like this, where he felt vulnerable and on display, that it constantly beat at the edges of his mind like storm-tossed waves, threatening to drown him. He hated in particular that he felt like this around Shane now- Shane, who had for so many years been the only person Rick felt he could be wholly himself around. So much in the last several months had shifted, the steady foundation beneath his feet quaking and eroding away. Those gnawing feelings of worry and inadequacy now tainted every interaction with his friend as he compared their lives. Shane was out on his own with a group of new friends, a girlfriend, and the promise of a stable job as soon as he was out of the police academy. And then there was him- still coming back home on the weekends, still relying on his parents, still single with a poorly paying, unsteady job at the school bookstore and laden with the promise of hefty student loans and sketchy job prospects when he graduated with a goddamned fine art degree.

He hated that he was embarrassed of his life, but he was. He could absolutely have it worse, he knew that- but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be doing something more, something better, something more ambitious that he would garner him respect.

“Hey. Earth to Rick. You still with us, darlin’?” Negan’s fingers prodded him playfully in the side as he sat beside him on the couch, the crust of his toast poised between his teeth, and laughter bubbled up out of Rick before he could hold it in. The other boy reared back in surprise, grinning like a fiend. “The hell was that? You ticklish?”

“ _No_ ,” Rick nearly yelped in horror- but it was too late. Negan had caught onto the weakness like a shark scenting blood in the water, and all at once wiggling fingers were invading Rick everywhere: up and down his sides, his armpits, behind his knees. “Neg-Negan!” he laughed helplessly, trying to fill his voice with a seriousness that he couldn’t grasp onto.

“Oh, this is too fucking rich, Rick! Laughter looks good on you, you know that? Nice change from that mean-ass look you’re always givin’ me.” Rick tried fruitlessly to shove the boy off of him but only succeeded in riling him up more and making Negan climb up the couch to straddle his hips and properly pin him down and his hands slid beneath Rick’s shirt to get at warm skin.

“Fu-fuck you!” Rick choked out, tears of mirth in his eyes even as he squirmed and bucked. He saw an opening when Negan reached for his knee again and took it, hands sliding beneath Negan’s shirt to tickle his sides and delighting in the shocked yelp the other boy made in response. He managed to wriggle up to sitting, but Negan gave chase and gripped at his thighs, fingers kneading the flesh that was sensitive even beneath his jeans. Rick’s breath hitched both at the feeling and at how close Negan’s hands were to his crotch, muscles clenching. Instinctively, Rick’s legs fell open to try to shake the boy off, hips rising from the couch. He watched as Negan’s eyes changed from laughing to lustful, hands stilling as his eyes raked down Rick’s body to rest solidly between his spread legs.

“Fuck,” he whispered in what would have likely been a playful voice if he hadn’t sounded so robbed of breath, “you tryin’ to tell me somethin’, Rick?”

Rick’s gaze met Negan’s for a long, weighty moment, and Rick was all too aware of the heat crawling across his face and the way his eyes followed Negan’s tongue as the boy slowly licked his lips.

“Cake’s here!” Jeffrey suddenly called from the foyer. The front door swung shut with a heavy thud and Rick jerked away as his senses returned, twisting and nearly falling off the couch in an attempt to right himself. Jeffrey stuck his head into the living room, shooting them both a knowing smile. “Mom’s right upstairs, you know. Not that I’m judging! I’m just givin’ you a heads up.”

“I’m- we weren’t-” Rick spluttered ineffectively, his fate sealed by the way Negan casually slid back into a comfortable position on the couch and send Jeffrey a thumbs-up.

“Good lookin’ out, my man. You hear that, Rick? No more tryin’ to get any with your mom right upstairs, you horndog.”

Rick choked on a horrified noise and glared daggers at Negan as Jeffrey erupted into laughter. _There’s the asshole I’ve been waiting on_ , Rick thought with a groan. _Right on time._

* * *

If anything, the weekend was proving more and more that Negan was, in fact, aware of when he was being a dick and was fully able to discern when it was wholly unacceptable to be one. To Rick’s intense frustration, his parents _adored_ Negan, as evidenced by the way his father was in deep conversation with him on the back porch about muscle cars or some shit that Rick didn’t have a clue about, and his mother was constantly saying things like, “he’s such a sweet boy, so friendly…oh, Negan, sweetheart, you don’t have to do that, you’re such a big help…”

It would have been sickening if it wasn’t for the fact that Negan’s toning down of his dickishness also extended toward Rick. In fact, Negan had been downright cordial toward Rick since they’d arrived, holding doors and shooting him sappy looks that were maybe a little over the top in their soppiness, but they were certainly a step up from the usual vulgar flirtation and shower-hogging antics.

“Hey, darlin’,” Negan hummed as he stepped into the kitchen and slid a war arm around Rick’s waist, holding tight. Lips pressed against his temple, right where his hair began to curl, and Rick stiffened for a moment before relaxing into the affection. He had to admit, even coming from someone like Negan, the sweetness and gentle touches they shared to seem more coupley sparked a warmth in Rick’s chest that he hadn’t felt since Lori. It had been a long time since anyone had been so intentional in their touches, had pressed quick kisses to his cheek or top of his head, had put their arms around him and let them linger for more than a quick hug of goodbye or greeting.

“Hey,” Rick replied, glancing up at the boy beside him best he could despite Negan using the top of his head to rest his chin, “guess I got lucky with you, huh? I figured my dad would be harder to warm up to than that, but he seems to like you just fine.”

“I’m damn charming, Rick. Plus, it’s always at least an eighty percent chance that guys his age are into talkin’ about old cars. Makes me glad for all those summers my mom had me workin’ in her garage. I used to bitch her ear off about it, always wantin’ to go out when she had me in there covered in grease showing me how to rebuild an engine and shit, but damn if it hasn’t gotten me a long way with old guys. Good thing, too, because if it wasn’t for that I’m pretty sure I’m not the kinda guy a lot of girls’ daddies would be happy about them bringin’ home. Or guys’ daddies,” he amended with another smooch to the top of Rick’s head.

“Well, my mom likes you just fine, if that’s anything to go by,” Rick offered, watching as his mother greeted a couple of his father’s work friends at the front door.

“Moms love me, Rick. I know how to schmooze a momma in my sleep. Dads are a whole other ball game, though. Set in their fuckin’ ways.” Rick reached across the counter to grab a pig in a blanket and shove it into Negan’s loud mouth as people began to pour into the kitchen.

“Tone down the swearing, asshole,” he chuckled as he watched Negan choke down the mouthful of hotdog, “people are startin’ to show up.”

“Damn, Rick,” the boy murmured, low and insinuating into Rick’s ear, “if you wanted me to put your wiener in my mouth you could have just said-” Rick made an impatient noise in his throat and dug his elbow into Negan’s gut, catching a hotdog-muffled  _oof_ in reply.

“C’mon,” Rick muttered, eager to get Negan away from his parents' friends and coworkers just in case the boy decided to ditch the good boyfriend act. Nabbing them a couple of sodas from the cooler by the door, he took Negan’s hand and tugged him back outside, where their porch was decorated with streamers and balloons tied to the railing. Rick’s father was working over the grill, prodding at burgers and cutting open a package of hotdogs. “Dad, hey. Let me do that, it’s your birthday, you shouldn’t be the one cooking for everyone.”

Rick’s father looked up from the grill with a wry smile and a twinkle in his eye behind his thick glasses. “Oh, I don’t think so, Rick. You remember the last time you tried to be the one to grill out?”

Rick sensed his dad’s fatherly urge to spill his most embarrassing stories in front of his fake boyfriend, and he urgently tried to cut it off at the head. “Okay, fine yeah- but I was younger then-”

“It was last year. We nearly had to call the fire deparment-”

“Okay!” Rick yelped, waving his arms wildly, “I won’t cook- Negan can, though. He’s really good, dad. Promise. Right, Negan?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a regular Gordon Ramsay.” Rick nearly snorted at the thought- Negan red in the face and screaming profanities over mildly overcooked chicken and runny alfredo. It wasn’t far off the mark. Rick’s father looked wary, but he handed over the hotdogs anyway. 

“Fine. You boys be careful- there’s a fire extinguisher right there, Rick-”

“Alright, dad.”

“And maybe you should stay a few feet away, don’t touch anything-”

“Thanks, dad-”

“Negan, make sure that he-”

“Okay, dad! Great! I get it!” Rick’s father and Negan were both poorly smothering their laughter at his expense, and Rick grumbled under his breath and pulled up a chair to watch as Negan took over at the grill. “It wasn’t actually as bad as he’s making it seem. It was a small fire. You know, relatively speaking.”

“Relative to what?” Negan asked, the corners of his mouth turned up as he laid out the hotdogs.

“Relative to…say, a forest fire.” Negan made a choking sound and very nearly dropped a half dozen hotdogs onto the porch as his whole body jerked in surprised laughter. “Careful with the wieners,” Rick said with a strong air of mock-seriousness, and that only made Negan laugh harder, tears of mirth blooming in the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, Rick! I always knew you had a sense of humor underneath that stick-in-the-mud act you put on.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Rick kicked his feet up on the porch railing, smiling proudly in spite of himself. “It’s not hard to make you laugh. You’ve got all the maturity of a middle schooler, I could probably make dick jokes and farting sounds and you’d pee your pants laughing.”

“It takes a lot more than fart noises to get me to pee-pee pants city, Rick. I’m a little more sophisticated than _that_.”

“I’m not wrong about the dick jokes, then.”

Negan glanced furtively at the back door to make sure Rick’s parents weren’t about to come strolling outside before grandly flipping Rick off with both hands. “Quit distractin’ me, Grimes. You’re gonna make your dad regret trusting me with the grill.”

“I wasn’t aware I was bein’ distracting.”

“You’re _always_ being distracting,” Negan retorted, the last syllables of the accusation falling a bit short, like he’d realized halfway through the sentence that he didn’t want to say them after all. Rick frowned up at the other boy, not sure how to take that.

“The hell does that mean?”

Negan was still and silent for a moment, so much so that Rick wondered if the world had frozen around him because when was _Negan_ ever so quiet?

“Rick!” Shane’s voice broke the spell of stillness and Rick and Negan’s heads both turned to see the boy stepping out onto the back porch to join them, followed by a dark-haired girl with severe eyebrows and a brilliant smile that Rick recognized as Jenny, Shane’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Shane. Hey, Jenny.” Rick stood, accepting hugs from them both before stepping back and bumping immediately into Negan, who was looming behind him and holding Shane’s scrutinizing gaze. “Right, uh. Negan, this is Shane and Jenny. Guys, this is Negan, my-”

“Boyfriend,” Negan supplied helpfully as if sensing that Rick would choke around he word. He stuck out a hand while half-leaning over Rick’s shoulder, pulling a disoriented-looking Shane in for a bear hug when he accepted the handshake. Rick held his breath for the duration of it, fearing that he would hear the crack of bone. When Negan let go, he and Shane held each other’s gazes for a long moment, Shane looking up at Negan with curiosity.

Rick wondered again if bringing Negan had been a mistake.

“Hope you’re treatin’ my boy right,” Shane said. His voice was calm and unwavering, impassive as his face, and even Rick, for all his ability to read his best friend, couldn’t tell if there was a threat lurking beneath the words. “He deserves the fuckin’ best.”

Rick felt the warmth of Negan’s body pressing against him from behind, his back flush against the boy’s firm chest as Negan’s strong arms snaked around his waist and pulled him in close. “He sure fucking does. And don’t worry, buddy- _I’m_ the best.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed, and for a single heart-stopping second Rick was sure that his friend was about to pick a fight with Negan in the middle of a family get-together. But then, much to Rick’s immense relief, Shane threw his head back and laughed, giving Negan a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Good! Fucking good, it’s about damn time Rick’s gotten himself a good dicking down!”

Rick felt his face heat up, knowing that Negan would be far too happy to rise to the occasion and share wildly detailed descriptions of their fake sex life.

“Oh, he’s getting one, alright. Isn’t that right, Rick?” Negan and Shane both gave hearty chuckles at the mutinous look on Rick’s burning face. “Love how red he gets. You wouldn’t believe how far down it goes. First time I got him in my bed, I thought he had a fuckin’ sunburn-”

“Alright!” Rick groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shane doesn’t need to know that shit-”

“ _I_ don’t need to know that shit,” Jenny chimed in with a laugh, and Rick shot her a grateful look.

“Fine, fine. I’ll save it for later.” Negan turned back to the grill, flipping the burgers, which were beginning to smell heavenly, the scent of cooking meat filling Rick’s senses and making his mouth water.

“Or not at all,” Rick suggested.

“Aw, c’mon, Rick. Nothin’ wrong with a little locker room talk,” Shane objected as he settled into a chair beside Jenny. “We can swap stories, if you wanna.”

Rick rubbed at his temples, the craving for something stronger than root beer coming over him. “I think I’ll pass. You guys want a beer? I’m gettin’ us all a beer.”

“Make it two!” Negan hollered after him.

* * *

Two beers became three, and three turned into five after the four of them grabbed a couple apiece and, at Shane’s suggestion, took off on foot to the abandoned lot in the front of their neighborhood where they could drink and be merry without getting side-eyed looks from the adults sipping their fifteen-dollar wine and playing charades in the living room.

To be fair to Rick and the others, they’d stayed polite and sober through dinner and cake-cutting and the toasting and subsequent teasing roasting of Rick’s father.

It was past ten and darkness had fallen over the sleepy neighborhood as the four of them trekked into the worn path through the dense woods into the clearing in the trees where a small house used to stand years before. Nothing but the concrete foundation remained, the gray discolored with age and graffiti from other hapless youths that had used the spot to get drunk and goof off. The four of them sat close together on the warm concrete, sipping and laughing easily.

Rick felt light, happy and free in a way that he usually didn’t when he drank. Maybe it was because he felt safe and comfortable here surrounded by only people that he knew, close to home with no worries about paying for a cab or who was the designated driver. Maybe it was because Shane and Negan were laughing together, no dumb stunts try to be top dog, just swapped stories of cop training and campus shenanigans.

“Rick, you fuckin’ dick! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you pranked those goddamned frat boys! I thought we were friends, you bitch,” Shane guffawed, no heat behind his words.

“I was waitin’ to tell you in person. Some things deserve more than a coupl’a texts.”

As they finished off the last of their beer and Jenny launched into a story about how one of her coworkers recently quit by having throwing a tantrum in the middle of the produce department, complete with thrown tomatoes, Rick felt himself slipping into a warm, fuzzy haze. Negan had set his phone to the side with the flashlight on to give them some light, and the glow was making the space between them feel close and intimate, the occasional flicker of fireflies glimmering around them like constellations of twinkling stars. He found himself gazing at Negan more and more, watching the way the boy’s nose crinkled when he laughed, how the bright white light glowing a couple feet away made his eyelashes cast dark shadows over his high cheekbones.

Unthinkingly, Rick scooted a little closer to him, soaking up the taller boy’s warmth.

“He givin’ it to you real good, Rick? I’ve been rootin’ for you to get laid for two years, man,” Shane said.

“Heard you just about put in a bid to do it yourself,” Negan returned quickly, and then instantly looked to Rick with regret on his face as if to say, _shit, sorry, I didn’t meant to._

Shane just shrugged it off, unbothered. “Hey, man, that was before I knew he had someone already! No harm, no foul, right?”

“Right,” Rick murmured, eyes still on Negan. He didn’t want to think about that night with Shane, not when he was feeling so good. He wanted them off this subject entirely, and to steer them away, he said the first stupid thing that popped into his head. “He does give it to me real good, though.” Impulsively, he slid up into Negan’s lap, thighs bracketing the other boy’s waist. He caught the split second of surprise on Negan’s face before he managed to school it back into his usual casual ease. Negan’s eyes were warm like the hues of autumn and on his breath was the same beer the lingered heavy on Rick’s own tongue, but suddenly all Rick wanted to know was how different it tasted on Negan’s lips.

“Hey there, blue eyes, what-”

And that was all Negan managed to eke out before Rick’s lips covered his in a curious kiss. As soon as their lips touched, the taste of beer was the furthest thing from Rick’s mind. All he could think about was how different this was from the kiss he’d shared with Shane- how Negan’s lips were soft and warm, how he wanted to know how they felt pressed against him everywhere that he hadn’t been touched for the last two years- his neck, his chest, down between his thighs where warms was pooling. He didn’t want to pull away, lost in the slow, tender movement of their mouths, in the wet swirl of tongue, in Negan’s hands clutching at his hips like they were the only thing tethering him to Earth.

When they parted to catch their breath, their lips still so close that they touched, Rick thought, _I may just float away anyway_.

* * *

When they arrived back at Rick’s parents’ house, empty beer bottles clutched tightly in hand, they were all still tipsy and tired and Shane didn’t want to walk back down the street to his own house, so the four of them, quietly as they could, dumped the bottles in the recycling bin and crept up the stairs to Rick’s bedroom. Shane was practically dozing on his feet and simply grabbed a pillow off the bed and dove spectacularly to the floor, snoring softly. Jenny took the spare blanket Rick offered her and curled up using Shane’s stomach as a pillow.

“Rick,” Negan whispered once they were in bed together, not two seconds after laying down. “You awake?”

Rick smothered drunken laughter into his hand. “Yeah, idiot.”

“I want some fucking cake.”

Rick’s brain immediately conjured up the image of vanilla birthday cake, topped with dollops of sweet buttercream. He'd only gotten a small sliver earlier before the others had suggested grabbing their drinks and taking off into the woods, and suddenly he wanted nothing in the world more than a big slice. “Shit. Me too.”

“You should…go get us some.”

“You go get us some!” Rick protested, rolling over to look Negan in the eye and try to communicate the depths to which he needed a slice of cake. He was met with a whole lot of Negan right up in his face, those kissable lips mere inches from his own.

“I don’t wanna move.”

“Well, I don’t want to either.”

They were both quiet for a long stretch of time, staring into each other's narrowed eyes as if testing their willpower before Negan, inevitably, broke. “Riiick. C’mon. Pretty fuckin’ please? I’ll stop stealin’ your clothes if you go get it.”

“You steal my clothes?” Rick had a feeling he knew exactly where his missing shirt was now.

“Shit. No?”

“Now you’re _definitely_ goin’ to get it. To make up for stealin’ my clothes.” Negan tucked his face into Rick’s chest and groaned, and Rick was struck with an idea. Before Negan could interject with some nonsense reason why Rick should be the one to fetch their late-night snack, Rick cupped the side of the boy’s face and kissed him again, delighting in the way Negan’s whole body stiffened and then went happy and lax as he kissed him thoroughly in reply, sharp teeth nipping at Rick’s full lower lip.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan breathed, licking into Rick’s mouth. Rick shuddered, heat spreading through him and beginning to head south. For a moment, just a moment, he considered letting the kiss run its course, letting their hungry, roaming hands wander beneath clothes and seeing what happened next, but before Rick’s lust-addled thoughts could stray too far, Negan was pulling back and panting heavily against the shadow of his neck. “Fuck. You filthy fuckin’ cheater. _Fine_. I’ll get the damn cake.”

Rick spent the ten minutes that Negan was gone praying that he didn’t hear a crash downstairs that would inevitably wake up his parents and alert them to his and Negan's less-than-sober late night snack. The sight of Negan stepping back into the dark room, a paper plate laden with a hefty slice of cake in his hands, was the sweetest sight Rick thought he’d ever seen.

The two of them shared a conspiratorial smile before Negan slid back into bed beside Rick and offered him up a plastic spork. They both dug in, humming in sugar-filled delight when the sweetness filled their mouths, and within five minutes the cake was gone and they were tucked back beneath the blankets.

Rick had been nearly lulled to sleep by the lullaby of the alcohol in his veins when Negan’s voice called him back to wakefulness.

“Rick.”

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Rick grunted sleepily and rolled over to face Negan, who was nearly indistinguishable in the dark. “Wha’ you wan’, Negan?”

Shrouded in shadow, Rick couldn’t see Negan’s intention until he felt the press of lips, sugary-sweet and gentle on his mouth.

“Just wanted one more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep meaning to reply to comments and I've been having like...A Week but I really appreciate every bit of feedback and everyone who's been reading, thank u so much


	8. One More

Rick heard the soft sounds of Shane and Jenny leaving early in the morning- or, at least, he assumed it was early, because he couldn’t find it in him to open his eyes. That was usually how things went when Shane spent the night- he would silently creep out before Rick woke and trot back home. It wasn’t that he minded staying, he just knew Rick well enough to know that his friend liked to have the mornings to himself, and let him have his space. It was a thoughtful gesture, and an unspoken one between them that Rick appreciated.

“Ricky.”

“Mm?” Rick stretched his legs in response to the hand shaking his shoulder gently. He could feel the beginnings of a dull headache throbbing at his temples, and the last thing he wanted was to wake up and be met with the harsh light of day.

“Ricky, it’s past noon, are you alright?”

That startled Rick wide awake, and he sat up so fast that he felt like he’d left his heavy, aching brain on the pillow. “Shi-crap! Sorry, mom. Guess we stayed up later than I realized last night.” He wracked his sluggish brain, trying to remember if he’d glanced at the clock before he’d gone to sleep. The details of last night were fuzzy and distorted as if he'd spent the evening submerged in murky water.

“I saw Shane and Jenny leaving around nine and figured you boys were up, too. I don’t think you’ve slept this late since that time in middle school you stayed up for two days after that video game you were so obsessed with came out. What was it...?”

Rick would have laughed if he didn’t think it would make his head explode. He could clearly recall his twelve-year-old self staying up for two solid days after finally getting a gameboy and a copy of the newest Pokemon game. Shane had snuck over with his own gameboy and stayed the night, and they’d both fallen asleep on the living room floor with their still-running games plugged into the wall, surrounded by Twinkie wrappers and empty mountain dew cans.He’d woken up the next day at three in the afternoon and promptly puked up a neon yellow puddle of goo onto the carpet. With the way his stomach was rolling and clenching now, he feared he wasn’t too far from that happening again today.

His mother seemed to notice it too, if the mix of sympathy and amusement in her blue eyes was anything to go by. “We’ve got a few Gatorades in the fridge. You should drink one, it’ll help. Also-” she tapped the frosting-smudged plate sitting on Rick’s beside table, “just so you know next time, sugar's not the best think to be eating when you drink.”

“You’re not…mad?” His parents had never been overly strict with him, but neither had they been overly permissive. They hadn’t needed to be- Rick had never been a wild child, and aside from a few excessively late nights out with his friends in high school and one instance of getting caught half-naked in bed with Lori, his parents hadn’t had to deal with too much teenage mischief from him. He didn’t have a good gauge on how they felt about him getting drunk with his friends and boyfriend and sleeping half the day away.

“You’re an adult, honey. I’m not going to act like I’m thrilled about the hangover, but I understand. You’re young, you’re going to drink. I’m just glad you’re safe about it and weren’t out driving around.”

“I’m not that dumb, mom.”

Rick mother shook her head, smoothing a loving hand over her son’s unruly curls. “Smart people do dumb things sometimes, sweetheart. Now come downstairs and get some water in you. It’ll help. And I’ve got some leftover sausage that I didn’t take with me to church-”

“Oh god, no.”

“It’ll help with the hangover, honey.”

“If I eat right now it’ll just come right back up.”

“Try it anyway, you’re not going to feel better until you get some food in you. I’ve got plenty for you and Negan.”

She was out the door a moment later, and Rick was left in bed holding his head and wondering why the thought of Negan made anxiety knot itself up in his chest like tangled yarn. He dug deep for details about last night. He could remember being in the woods, drinking, telling stories…he remembered feeling warm and safe and…

_Fuck._

He looked over at Negan, who was still sleeping soundly beside him. He’d kicked most of the blankets to the foot of the bed and his shirt had ridden up to expose a strip of flat stomach and a trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Rick hated himself a little for finding it difficult to drag his gaze away from it, but even worse was the memory that flashed through his mind when he looked at Negan’s face.

He remembered it clearly now that he was looking at him: the white glow of light and the kiss, the way he’d straddled Negan like he was ready to take a ride. His face burned, fingers knotting in the sheets. _He’ll remember. He drinks more than me, I’m probably the only one who was acting like a drunk idiot because of a couple beers._

With that thought, Rick’s stomach promptly flipped over and he nearly feel out of bed in his beeline to the bathroom to puke up the remnants of last night’s fun.

* * *

Rick spent a long time in the bathroom even after his protesting stomach was empty, his forehead pressed to the cool porcelain as he cursed himself and his low alcohol tolerance and Negan’s stupidly charming face. After he’d cleaned up and taken a hot shower, he got dressed and joined his mother in the kitchen, taking her up on the offer of Gatorade and sausage. Naturally, he had a mouthful of meat when Negan came up behind him and planted a kiss on the top of his head with a murmured, “Mornin’, baby.”

Rick could only hope that nobody else noticed the way he squirmed and dodged Negan’s eyes as the other boy microwaved his breakfast and sat down next to him to chow down.

“Have a good time last night?” he asked casually around a bite of sausage. The toes of his socked foot pressed into the arch of Rick’s bare one beneath the table.

“I…yeah. Good. It was good.” He couldn’t tell if Negan was smirking because of his stumbling or because of something else. Probably something else.

“You remember any of it?”

Rick’s eyes followed Negan’s lips as they wrapped around the bottle of bright blue liquid he held, and another memory flooded his mind- Negan’s hands roaming up his back as they kissed, in his bed this time.

Rick’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “I’m startin’ to.”

“Yeah?” Negan murmured, setting the bottle back down and gazing at him intently. “Which part?”

It was then that Rick realized that there was nothing keeping him from lying through his teeth and pretending that the kisses they’d shared last night were a product of alcohol-induced bad decision-making. Or, even better- that he didn't remember them at all. 

So he lied.

“I remember you sayin’ you steal my clothes,” Rick accused with a wry smirk. “You too lazy to do laundry or somethin’?”

A look passed over Negan’s face, something small and fleeting that Rick couldn’t get a good read on before it vanished. “Yep. Too lazy to do laundry. You know how fuckin’ far it is to walk down to the laundry room? And I gotta scrounge up quarters…fuck that shit. Who the hell keeps spare change on them anymore?” Negan laughed and bit off another chunk of sausage. “Your clothes always smell so damn good, too. Like a fuckin’ field of flowers. Makes me a real hit with the ladies.”

Rick rolled his eyes and launched his last bit of sausage at Negan’s face. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

“And don’t you fuckin’ forget it.”

* * *

Rick and Negan spent the rest of their afternoon hanging out with Rick’s parents and stuffing themselves full of leftover party food, neither of them keen to return to their dorm and go back to leftover pizza and Chinese takeout for dinner most evenings. It was only when Rick’s mom offered to pack them up some tupperware full of cake and casserole and thrust three extra bags of jalapeño chips into their arms while insisting that, “we don’t need all of this in the house, I was hoping people would eat more than they did, please take it! I’ll sleep better knowing you boys are well-fed,” that they put their binge eating on pause.

It was when they were packing their things back into overnight bags and collecting the clothes they’d scattered across Rick’s bedroom floor that a question occurred to Rick.

“Why do you never go home on weekends?”

A flurry of emotion crossed over Negan’s face in the span of a few short seconds, and for a moment Rick worried that he’d accidentally dug his fingers into an open wound. Negan had a photo of his mother over his bed, but that didn’t mean that she was still alive and well enough for him to go home to.

“I’m from Virginia,” Negan said at last. “It’s a long-ass drive to get up there, and that’s a lot of gas money, you know? That or a plane ticket. I’m planning on going up there for Thanksgiving, but I’ve gotta save up to do that.”

“Oh,” Rick said, feeling awkward. There was always a faint twinge of guilt surrounding money for him. He knew he was lucky that it wasn’t something he had to worry about- he had a scholarship that covered most of his tuition and his parents still sent him a little money each month so he could cover most of his gas and food costs without having to worry about skipping meals. His job didn’t pay much or give him many hours, and he was grateful for the help. Whenever he told them he felt guilty that he wasn’t fully supporting himself, they brushed it off, saying they were happy to help him out so that he could focus fully on school instead of splitting his energy between classes and a hectic job. “I, uh. I’m sorry.”

Negan shrugged and shoved a t-shirt into his bag, zipping it up. “It’s fuckin’ fine. I mean- I love my mom, but she’s got her own life and she gets that I can’t come home every weekend. She’s alright with it, I’m alright with it.” He retrieved his camera from its place on Rick’s desk and gave Rick a wink. “Maybe you could come with me sometime. Repay the favor. God knows every time I come home she’s on my case about not havin’ a girlfriend or a boyfriend or what the fuck ever. And you’re such a damn peach, she’d fucking adore you.” He chuckled. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t meet her. She’d spend five minutes with you and be planning our goddamn wedding and pickin’ out our kids’ names and shit like that.”

“Damn,” Rick joked, throwing a sassy look over his shoulder at Negan, “you spend the whole weekend hoggin’ my bed and stealin’ all the good pillows and now you’re tellin’ me you don’t even wanna get married? And here I thought this meant we were goin’ steady.”

Negan blinked rapidly, like Rick’s overt attempt at flirtatious humor- which was usually Negan’s forte- had short-circuited something in his brain. It was a long two seconds before the boy burst into raucous laughter, hunching over and wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. “Holy shit! I’m pretty sure I’m starting to rub off on you, Rick.”

Rick flipped him off, trying to glare with a grin still twitching at the corners of his lips. “Not everything’s about you, Negan.”

* * *

“Sweetheart, do you have all the food? All of it?”

“Yes, mom.”

“The cake? Did you get the cake?”

“I did, mom. First thing I grabbed.”

“And the chips? We don’t need all those chips here, Ricky, and I know you like the jalapeno ones-”

“I’ve got like four bags of them, mom. I’m good.”

“Hey, did you boys like those hot dogs? The turkey ones? You want to take those with you, too?”

“Dad, we’ve got enough food, really-”

Rick had been trying to get out of the door for a solid twenty-three minutes. He’d been watching the clock, timing it- mostly because he’d bet Negan that it would, in fact, take them at least a half hour to leave, even with Rick’s efforts to rush things along. So far, things were looking good in his favor.

“Alright, well…” Rick’s mother smoothed a hang through Rick’s wild curls and then down to his cheek, smiling with a sadness that Rick felt was a little much considering he saw her at least every other weekend. “You’re getting fuzzy, Ricky. You trying to grow a beard?”

Rick flushed, trying to pull away. “I dunno. Maybe.” He hated that he sounded like a petulant child, especially in front of Negan. “I hadn’t thought about it. I just forgot to shave while I was here.”

She nodded, looking approving. “You’d look good with a beard. So handsome and grown up. My baby boy…”

“Mom-”

His mother laughed and swatted him on the shoulder. “Lighten up a little, Ricky. I won’t embarrass you in front of your boyfriend more than I already have.”

“Okay, so we’re gonna head out then-”

He was _so_ close. His and Negan’s belongings were already packed in the car and they made it as far as the front porch before Rick’s mother called out, “wait!”

Rick suppressed a groan. He was tired, not looking forward to the drive back to campus, and just wanted to lie down and rest for a while in a bed- in _his_ bed, that he could sleep in alone.

“I know, I know. Just one more minute- I realized I never got a picture of you boys. I meant to take one at the party but I completely forgot.” She brandished her phone at them, urging them to stand together in front of the leafy bushes lining the front porch.

“Mom, we’ll send you a picture, alright?”

“No, no, you’ll send me one of those self-pictures where I can only see your faces. Not that I don’t love you boys’ sweet faces, but I want the full thing! I want a nice portrait of you two. Now Ricky, if you could stand right there- yes, and Negan- that’s perfect, sweetheart! Just like that!”

'Perfect' in Rick’s mother’s mind was Rick tucked beneath Negan’s arm, so close that their hips bumped and Rick could smell Negan’s cinnamon-mint toothpaste. Instinctively, Rick’s arm slid around Negan’s waist, tugging him a little closer. He felt the warm huff of Negan’s laugh ruffled his hair, and the camera went off.

“Good! Now just one more…”

“Here,” Negan said quietly, reaching across Rick to lift his hand and lace their fingers together. “Let’s make this look convincing, right?”

Rick looked up at Negan, trying to force a gooey, in-love look for the camera…and found he didn’t have to dig as deep for it as he thought. The moment he looked up at the other boy, seeing his dancing hazel eyes and stubbly jaw and teasing smile, he was reminded of the boy’s lips warm and soft against his own, and his smile came naturally. Negan returned it, something in his expression different, deeper, than Rick had seen before.

“Just one more, I promise! You two look so sweet together.”

Rick blushed, dropping Negan’s gaze, and glanced at the camera with his normal smile, trying to push away thoughts of Negan’s kisses, his hands on his waist. Except then, right before the camera went off, he felt the gentle press of lips against his cheek.

Startled, as soon as his mother returned her phone to her pocket, Rick sent a questioning look in Negan’s direction, but the other boy was already a few steps away, thanking Rick’s mother for a lovely weekend and all the food she’d sent with them.

When they finally clambered into the car and started down the road, Rick’s cheek was still tingling.

“Hey, sorry about that- guess I should’ve asked, huh? If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I’ve kissed Dwight on the cheek, too. I mean, I was drunk, but the point is that it was Dwight and god knows I have no interest in banging his stringy-haired ass, so it’s not like…well, you know what I mean.”

“It’s fine,” Rick said, meaning it. Strangely, it was more than fine. “I don’t mind.”

Negan stretched out in his seat, plunking his feet up on the dashboard. “So, how’d I do? I want my goddamned review. 1-800-Rate-Your-Date. I thought I was a pretty damn good boyfriend, especially on last-minute notice. No fistfights in the front yard- and I went in thinkin' that was a real possibility with your buddy Shane, by the fucking way. I didn’t hit on any tipsy aunts at the party, didn’t get drunk and sing We Didn’t Start the Fire…and I wore pants! I wore pants the whole goddamned weekend, Rick. Even to sleep. It was a waking nightmare.”

Rick snorted. “You weren’t a menace. I give you a solid seven out of ten. Would hire you again and recommend your services to a friend in need.”

“Seven out of ten! The fuck, Rick- show your work. I demand to know where I was docked points. I mean, yeah, I had that little slip up with your grandparents at dinner, but I feel like I covered my ass alright. That should be at least a nine.”

“You had us sleep in the same bed. I’m pretty sure I woke up at one point and felt some morning wood. You’re lucky I’m givin’ you seven.”

Negan whistled sadly, shaking his head. “You know, some people less uptight than you may have considered that a perk.”

“Oh, it was perky, alright. It was like Groundhog Day down there.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Negan laughed, flipping him off.

“Six more weeks of winter, judgin’ by the size.”

“You’re a real dick, Grimes!”

“So was what I felt pokin’ me in the back.”

“At least I got my answer about whether you’re a big or little spoon.” Negan's smile grew wicked, that ever-teasing tongue running over his sharp white teeth.

Rick shook his head. “Nope. I was just trying not to stare at you as I slept. Or wake up to your morning breath all in my face. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, I think it does,” Negan goaded. “You always the little spoon, darlin’? Or do you switch?”

Rick got the distinct feeling he wasn’t being asked about cuddling anymore. Wrongfooted and caught in embarrassed unease, he didn’t notice Negan reaching for him until he felt long fingers skimming his jawline, making him flinch. “You actually trying to grow out a beard?”

Rick felt his skin flush hot under Negan’s touch. He swallowed hard and wondered if Negan could feel the bob of his throat, feel the heat. “No- I don’t know. I wasn’t meaning to. I just forgot to shave.”

“Hm,” Negan hummed, and Rick could feel the boy’s gaze sliding over him like warm hands. “That the only place you forgot to shave while we were there?”

Rick shot him an incredulous look. “Where the fuck else would I be shaving?

Negan’s eyes settled on Rick’s jean-covered crotch. “You don’t keep it nice and tidy down there?”

Rick wondered if it was possible for his face to actually catch fire. He could feel sweat gathering on his lower back, making his t-shirt cling to skin. “Shut the hell up.”

“I’m serious! You don’t at least trim it?”

“Negan-”

“No, it’s alright! I mean, I like to keep it neat, but some guys really rock the full bush. Musky. Somebody blows you and they’ll get a nose full of short-n-curlies though.”

“Well, I don’t have anyone willing to blow me, so that’s not really a huge concern,” Rick grumbled, shoulders drawing up. He wondered if he could scrunch up enough that Negan couldn't see his face at all, like a turtle in its shell. Knowing Negan, he'd keep talking even if he thought Rick wasn't listening.

He heard Negan inhale like he was about to speak, but the words must have died on his tongue, because a moment later he was pulling away and settling back into his chair out of Rick’s personal space.

“Well, just know that if you do ever get someone willing to put up with your ass, you don’t gotta shave for them. Let your freak flag fly, Rick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

"Also," Negan added after a beat, his voice a little more serious. "I like the scruff. You'd look good with a beard."

* * *

They hit a bout of traffic two exits from campus, and it was past nightfall by the time they finally parked and got back to their dorm. They stocked their fridge with food, still too stuffed from a late lunch to actually eat.

“Take it in, Rick. That’s probably the most food that’s ever been in this fridge.”

Rick nodded in solemn agreement. “I have a hunch that my mom bought too much just so she would have a good excuse to send stuff home with us.”

Negan chuckled and reached in to cut himself a slice of cake from the large slab packed away in tupperware. “I like your mom. If you end up like her when you’re fifty, you’ll be doin’ alright.”

“You’re eating _more_ cake?” Rick asked, trying to ignore how Negan’s sweet words made something in him melt like warm butter. _So he's nice to your mom. He's still an ass. An ass, a complete and total jackass-_

“You wanna check that judgmental-ass attitude at the door, Rick? Yeah, I’m eatin’ more cake. I _like_ cake. It’s a damn good cake. I daresay that if I could stick my dick in this cake, get it pregnant, and make little cupcake babies with it, I would.”

Rick wrinkled his nose at the image. “I wouldn’t try that.”

“Hell no! It would ruin a perfectly good slice of cake!” He held up a heaping forkful to Rick. “You want a bite? C’mon, I know you do.”

The memory of Negan in his bed the night before, sugar on both their lips and then those lips tasting each other’s mouths, filled his mind. “I- I, uh. No thanks. Still full. I’m gonna…I’m gonna go. To my room. Sleep.” He glanced at the stove clock- 8:24.

“ _Sleep_ ,” Negan repeated, eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Sleep,” Rick confirmed, and scrambled away.

* * *

He didn’t sleep, of course. Instead, he tried to distract himself with a book, and then a movie, and then an app on his phone until it was well past eleven and it was actually acceptable to go to sleep.

He padded into the bathroom, when Negan was already brushing his teeth. He joined the boy, side by side spitting toothpaste foam. "Guess you didn't sleep after all," Negan accused lightly.

He wasn’t sure why it only hit him then. _Why do I remember Negan tasting like cake? I kissed him to get him to go get us cake…_

Maybe it was the gentle way that Negan murmured, “Goodnight, Rick,” as he stepped out of the bathroom, but Rick suddenly remembered the last thing that happened before he and Negan fell asleep. How Negan had rolled over, asked him to come closer, had kissed him so tenderly with sugar on both their lips. How he had said, with tipsy but genuine affection in his autumn eyes, _"Just wanted one more.”_

Rick caught Negan’s wrist, spinning the taller boy around and catching a glimpse of the surprise on his handsome face before he closed the distance between them and pressing a kiss to his lips. He felt his heart stutter in his chest with the boldness of it, the rush of kissing this ridiculous, beautiful boy that he just couldn’t figure out. Negan’s breath hitched against Rick’s lips, startled into submission for the briefest, most miraculous moment before he kissed Rick back, chaste but wanting.

When Rick pulled away, he could see Negan already beginning to ask the question. Instead, Rick cut him off, choosing to answer Negan’s question from this morning- _you remember any of it?_ \- honestly this time.

“I remember that, too.”


	9. But I'm Wearing You Down

“You did _what?"_

“I stood there like a goddamned moron until he shouted _goodnight_ and slammed the door in my face.”

“Not _that_! You kissed him? _You?_ Kissed _him?”_

Carol’s caramel cappuccino had been delivered to their table right before Rick had launched into the tale of his and Negan’s weekend together, and it still sat perfectly un-sipped in front her. Rick frowned, casting a furtive glance at the other coffeeshop patrons around them. “I- yeah. I kissed him. Why’d you say it like that?”

“Because it came as a fucking surprise?” Carol replied incredulously, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“No, I mean why’d you say it like _that?”_

“Oh. Because I thought he’d be the one to make the first move. You can’t blame me. I mean…it’s Negan. I’ve been watching him flirt with you constantly for a month. And you’re not exactly great at making first moves.” She sipped her drink and gave him a wink. 

Rick would scoff…except it was true. He’d known Carol- or, at least, had seen her around and had a class with her- for months before they’d ever spoken. She’d been the one to invite him to hang out in the studios the first time, was the one to break that barrier of in-class acquaintances to actual budding friendship. It had been like that ever since Rick could remember, with him wanting to reach out but not quite knowing how to deepen things. It had been the same with Lori. She had been the one to ask him out, to take his hand when they’d gone to see a movie together on their first date, fingers laced together on the armrest. Rick couldn’t even remember what they'd gone to see now, just that it was some action movie with a lot of cleavage, and he’d been horribly embarrassed for picking it until afterward when Lori had laughed and told him she’d loved it because she had a huge crush on Angelina Jolie, and all the tension had melted away. She’d been like that, never afraid to say exactly what she meant, and Rick had always loved that about her, been jealous of it, even.

“Yeah, well. I made the first move for once in my life and it backfired on me. I think this is the only morning he hasn’t harassed me in some way while I was in the shower. He didn’t look at me once in life drawing, not even when Andrea was talking about how to draw glutes. _Glutes_ , Carol! He made some kind of inappropriate hand gesture at me from across the room when somebody said breasts once, and somehow _glutes_ gets nothing?” Rick groaned into his frappe. “Lesson learned. Never initiate anything, ever.” Carol’s hand flashed out and she playfully smacked his shoulder so quickly that he nearly shot strawberry out of his nose in surprised laughter. “The hell?”

“You’re an idiot, Grimes. You said you remember him kissing you over the weekend. You probably just freaked him out by doing it again when you’re sober. Negan may be a horndog, but I don’t think he ever expected you to go for him.”

“ _I_ didn’t expect to go for him! I still don’t completely know why I want to. He’s an ass.” And ass that was sweet to Rick’s family. An ass that loved his mom and his friends enough to tack photos of them up around his room, one that fell asleep in the photo lab because he cared about his work so much. An ass that pranked vile frat boys and came to Rick for help.

An ass that, despite his ass-like tendencies, had shown Rick a lot of sweetness, a lot of fun. Had told him that he wanted to try to be better. Because of _him_.

Okay. So maybe he had an _inkling_ as to why he liked Negan.

"Anyway," Rick mumbled, "enough about me. How was your weekend?"

"Boring as hell," Carol lamented. "They had me working the stockroom the whole time, and I think a little bit of my soul died being cramped back there writing numbers all day." Rick gave a sympathetic grunt. "Came to the concert here on Sunday, though. That band of music majors called The Walkers. The lead singer, Beth? She's something else."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said that." 

Rick and Carol both spun in their seats at the familiar voice behind them, and Maggie gave them a friendly wave as she handed a shaggy-haired boy his coffee. 

"Hey, Maggie," Carol said warmly. "Sorry, I didn't see you at the counter."

"I was in the back unloading cake pops- I mean _baking_ the cake pops fresh, 'cause we hand-make everything here daily. Of course." She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that's false advertisement, makin' us say that."

"If it helps, nobody's really fooled by it," Carol offered, making Maggie snort with laughter. 

"I figured as much." She pulled up a chair from an empty table, sitting between them.

"Oi, Maggie! I still got shit for you to do back here!" one of the baristas hollered across the cafe, and Maggie waved him off.

"I'm takin' my break, Sasha! There ain't anybody at the counter, anyway." She turned back to Rick and Carol, grinning. "I always wanted to do that, just be like 'hey, I'm takin' my break here!'," she giggled. "Feels good. So, strawberry frappe boy, what's this I hear about you kissin' someone?"

Rick groaned. "I'd rather forget about it."

Maggie patted him warmly on the back. "Hang in there, honey. You're real cute, you'll find somebody."

"You think I'm real cute?" Rick teased with a wry smile, and Maggie kicked his chair.

"Careful now, my boyfriend'll get jealous." 

Rick chuckled, glancing over at Carol, who was calmly sipping her coffee. "How 'bout you, Carol? You think I'm real cute?"

"Shut the fuck up, Grimes," she choked out around her laughter. "You're not my type. I'm not looking right now, anyway." There was a serious note to her voice that made Rick frown, and he caught a similar sad seriousness in Maggie's eyes that made him think he was missing something crucial. 

"You, uh- sorry. Am I missin' something?" He knew that Maggie and Carol had already been friends for a while, so it was only natural that Maggie knew her better than he did, but he felt like he'd made some kind of misstep and trodden on shaky ground. 

"No, no- it's alright," Carol began, smiling small and sad. "I just- the last relationship I got out of was...it was bad. Really bad. He was- well, he was a real asshole."

" _That's_ an understatement," Maggie muttered under her breath. 

"He used to hit me," Carol said plainly, and Rick felt his face fall with horror. "I'm fine- I'm better now. Better than I've ever been. I'm out, and I know I never have to go back to him. But I just don't want anything romantic for a while."

"Christ, Carol. I'm sorry." Rick held her blue gaze with his own, and she smiled, gentle and genuine.

"Don't be. You didn't know. And like I said- I'm out now. I'll just stick to listening to you two's relationship woes for a while."

"I don't have any woes anymore!" Maggie protested. "I've got a good one now."

"Rick's woes, then."

Rick sighed. "I got plenty of those."

* * *

Rick had spent the first month living with Negan trying to avoid the other boy as much as possible, and yet now, when he actually found himself hoping to turn a corner and see Negan, he was nowhere to be found. It was funny, Rick thought, in a sad sort of way. Or, at least, he was sad about it on the first Neganless day. A little sad, a little hurt, his pride wounded.

It was the second day that his usual emotion when it came to Negan returned in full bloom: annoyance. Negan never, ever, in the month of them living together, managed to miss Rick every time they would normally cross paths, but that was what he seemed determined to do. Rick didn’t catch hide or hair of him for the whole day on Tuesday- not in between classes, not in the bathroom, not even in their own goddamned dorm. He even swallowed his pride enough to try texting Negan to ask what the hell was going on, and got nothing in reply. It was clear avoidance, and it made Rick’s blood boil. There was no way that he could keep this up forever, but that he seemed intent on giving it the old college try pissed Rick off.

 _It was a kiss. It was one fucking kiss, Negan. If you didn’t like it or you’re not into me like that, just tell me. I get it, I do. You don’t have to pull this shit_ , he tapped out angrily, thumbs punching the keys more aggressively than what was entirely necessary. It was past eleven and Negan still wasn’t back in his room, which normally wasn’t anything to raise an eyebrow at, but Rick didn’t want Negan waiting outside the door to sneak in when he thought it was late enough that he would be sleeping.

Before he could hit send, a bubble popped up, three little dots alerting him that Negan was typing.

Rick breathed out a sigh of relief. _Thank god he’s done being an idiot about this._

A new message from Negan appeared on Rick’s screen a minute later, glowing bright like a flame to attract a curious moth. _Meet me in the fourth floor photo lab all the way down at the end of the hall. Room 470. Door’s locked, knock twice and I’ll let you in. Bring your student id in case someone catches us so we can look like we’re supposed to be there._

Rick breathed out low and slow through his teeth, the air coming out as a hiss as he replied. _You avoid me for two days and now you want me to come do some dumb shit with you? I’ll pass, thanks for the offer._

Negan responded immediately: _I’ll make it up to you if you come. I’ll explain if you come. Pretty fucking please, blue eyes?_

_Explain now._

_I can’t. I need to show you in person. Swear it’ll be worth it._ Rick could almost see Negan’s face pleading with him. 

 _You’re a dick,_ he typed back.

_If you come over here I’ll suck your dick. I'll wear a fucking dunce cap that says 'Negan is an idiot' to every class for a week . I'll give you your stolen clothes back. Come the fuck on. I’ve been working my ass off to get this done!_

Rick sighed, rubbed both hands through his hair, screamed quietly into his pillow, and grabbed his student id.

* * *

Rick had only been in the art building a couple times after hours, and never this late. Last semester when he’d taken a printmaking course, he’d had to stay late a few times to use the printing press, but he’d been joined by a few other people who needed some extra time in the lab, too. Now, walking the shadow-darkened halls alone, he felt that odd flight-or-flight prickle sliding over his skin that came with being somewhere dark and unnerving. The fluorescent lights had all been shut off, and the only thing lighting Rick’s way to room 470 was his phone flashlight. He guided the light over the plaques beside the doors, trying to block out the eerie way it threw shadows all around him.

“Four sixty-two, four sixty-four, four sixty-six…” Rick breathed out a sigh of relief when he reached the end of the hall and saw light streaming from below the door of room 470. He turned off his flashlight and knocked twice and the door was yanked open by Negan, who looked conflictingly bright-eyed and yet exhausted, dark purple smudges beneath his eyes and his hair sticking out at odd angled like he’d been continuously running his hands through it.

“ _Rick!_ ” he crowed, voice breaking with the force of his joy, “thanks for coming!”

And with that, he yanked Rick into the studio and locked the door behind them, one hand clamping firmly over Rick’s eyes while he did so. Rick gave a long-suffering sigh and allowed himself to be walked forward with Negan blindfolding him. “Okay, step around that- yeah, just-shit! Sorry about your shin, you all good? Good, alright, almost there. Aaand…perfect. Alright, Rick. You ready for this?”

“Negan,” Rick laughed in spite of himself, “I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing here.”

A puff of frustrated-sounding breath clouded the back of Rick’s neck, and he shivered. “Aw, Rick. You’re smarter than that, baby. Haven’t you figured it out yet? Photo lab? Just you and me?”

“Well, you did say you’d blow me if I came here, so I’m glad it’s just you and me unless you want an audience,” Rick joked.

“Fine. Guess it’ll be a fucking surprise, then. Alright, here it is.”

Negan dropped his hands from Rick’s face and Rick blinked twice to adjust to the clean white studio lighting before the pieces fell into place.

Lining the walls was a series of five large-scale photographs, all printed like posters and neatly mounted. Rick gazed up at them, more than a little awestruck- they were, like Negan had told him, much different than the candid snapshots decorating the boy’s dorm.

“They’re…pinup boys?” Rick asked, a smile in his voice as the took each one of them in. Each one was carefully staged and posed, the men in the photos ranging from skinny to muscular to curvy and thick-thighed. There was one model that looked familiar- Rick was sure that he’d seen him around campus before. He had short, tightly curled hair and a sweet face as he posed, swinging from a rope swing among a dense thicket of trees and flowers. Rick tilted his head, wracking his brain.

“Yep,” Negan answered him, lingering back to watch Rick taking in his photos. “Pinup boys. Queer pinup boys, to be exact. I was pretty clear about my parameters. It was kinda the point of the work. Obviously.”

Rick stepped back for a moment to take in the work as a whole and then he saw it- how each piece had a subtle but definite theme of color throughout, forming an incomplete rainbow across the wall. The boy in the forest was wearing high-waisted green shorts as he arch his chest toward the treetops. The photo beside him was soaked in sunny yellow that made Rick feel warm and summery, the one beside that was-

“Holy shit! Is that Glenn?” Rick asked, squinting up at the orange-themed pinup boy. He was shirtless and smiling, fading pink scars beneath each pectoral, his tongue out as if daring to catch the dripping cheese oozing from the slice of pizza he was cradling.

“Sure as shit is!” Negan replied. “I asked him at the end of last semester when I started on this project if he knew any queer guys willing to model for me, and he asked if I was taking trans guys, and I told him I sure as hell was, so here he is! He can’t wait ‘til his girlfriend sees the final shot, she’s gonna get a real kick out of it.”

Rick smiled fondly, moving on to the red photo and stopping short when he saw who the subject was. There, draped shirtless and artfully sudsy over the hood of a cherry-red vintage Camero, was Negan, smiling a million-dollar smile and proudly thrusting his hips forward to show off his speedo-clad crotch. Rick spluttered a string of nonsense, sure that his face was as red as the wet spandex clinging to Negan’s dick.

“You like that one, Rick? I’ll tell you, that was a hard shot to get just right. Trying to pose without seeing how you look until after the fact makes it way fucking harder to get a good photo. I must have been out there ‘til sunset that day posing like that. My neighbors weren’t fucking happy about it, and I got sunburned so bad that my chest looked like the hood of that car for a solid week, but it was worth it, don’t you think? I look damn good.”

Rick tried to muster up a reply that wasn’t the eager-but-reluctant agreement that was rattling around in his brain- Negan has spent the last two days avoiding him after Rick had put himself out there, after all. Rick wasn’t there to stroke his ego and drool over him.

“It’s a good shot,” Rick conceded once he’d found his words again. “They all are, but-” he paced the length of the wall again, taking in the colors and counting. “You’re missing something.”

“Blue,” Negan nodded when Rick turned to him. “You’re right. I’ve been working on them as I find my models- I want to fit the color to the man, you know? Give it a little personal touch. You obviously already know how Glenny-boy’s whole pizza thing fits. I worked on vintage cars with my mom. Aaron, the green one? He’s real into camping and outdoorsy shit. He and his boyfriend organize the annual camping trip for the campus LGBT club every year.”

 _Oh, that’s where I recognize him from._  Rick had attended exactly one meeting of said club his freshman year, been completely shy and intimidated, and bolted before the meeting had officially ended.

“The purple one? His name’s Gabriel, I just about fell on my ass when he responded to my ad. He’s a fucking religious studies major, can you believe that shit? I think that one’s my favorite, though. He and I drove around together for a week during the summer trying to find a good church to shoot in. He’s got an awfully smart mouth for such a quiet guy. I think you two would get along.” Negan stepped up beside Rick, standing in the gap between green and purple and tentatively offering Rick an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about…fucking avoiding you and shit, Rick. I know it was shit timing, believe me. But I…I wanted to show you this. You’re the only one who’s seen it so far. I wanted you to be the first. Like I promised.”

Something warm and sweet spread through Rick’s chest at Negan’s transparency, a smile tugging at his lips as he awkwardly bumped the taller boy’s hip with his own. “Well. Thanks…for showing me. Really. This is…I don’t know. It’s not what I was expecting, but I really like it. A lot.”

“It’s gayer than you expected.”

“Everything about you is gayer than expected,” Rick laughed, rolling his eyes. “But that’s a good thing.” He felt every inch between them as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, felt Negan’s eyes searching him like his face held answers to all of life’s most pressing questions, felt the way their pinkies brushed whenever they breathed out and rocked from side to side perfectly in sync. Negan still hadn’t brought up the kiss, the elephant in the room, and Rick felt the words leaving his lips before he could think to stop them. “Were you drunk when you kissed me? At my parent’s house- I remembered all of it. In the woods, in my bed…I remember. I remember that right before we went to sleep- after the cake…you kissed me. The other times, I thought…I thought, you know, I was a drunk idiot who kissed you and you just went with it because we were around Shane and Jenny. But you kissed me, too. So were you? Were you just…drunk? Is that why you didn’t kiss me back the other day?” Rick’s cheeks burned red once his breath ran out and he realized he was rambling, but he held Negan’s gaze, chin raised. _I want to know. Even if he says he was drunk and it didn’t mean anything, I want to know._

Negan’s face looked like it had that night in Rick’s hazy memory when they’d lain in his childhood bed together: soft, yearning, open. He reached out tentatively, the uncertainty in his touch something new and thrilling as he cupped Rick’s stubbly cheek. “Rick,” he murmured, all gentleness and amuse, “I wasn’t drunk.”

His lips were on Rick’s own before Rick could even process his words, all thought and sense obliterated by the feeling of Negan’s warm, soft lips pressing against his own. He was sober now where he hadn’t been that night, but his brain felt clouded and fuzzy all the same, the world falling away and only coming together again at the points were Negan touched him- his cheek, his waist, his mouth. He reached up, tangling his fingers in the taller boy’s unkempt hair and keeping him there, groaning pleasantly when Negan’s tongue found its way into his mouth. Heat engulfed him, spreading through his chest and pooling hot and wanting in the bottom of his belly, a shudder running through him when Negan pulled back with one last wet smooch to his kiss-swole lips and a parting nibble to the lower one.

They stayed there for a long stretch of time that Rick couldn’t trace, breathing hot and heavy against each other’s lips with their foreheads pressed together. Negan, naturally, was the first one to speak.

“About the other day- it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I just…it’s been a while since I’ve been with someone for more than…well, you probably don’t want to hear about that right now,” Negan sighed, “But Lucille, she was the last person I, you know…fucking cared about. Like that. I like to keep things casual, you know? Ever since her. Because of what I…how I fucked her over. I don’t want to do that to someone again.” He pulled back just enough to look Rick in the eyes, both hands on Rick’s face, warm and cradling. “You scare the shit out of me, Rick. I was having fucking fun, you know? Flirting with you, makin’ you squirm…and then you go and throw me right the fuck off and make me like you.” He smiled at that, and Rick felt it echoed on his own face. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I sure as hell didn’t expect you, either,” Rick returned, and Negan choked on a breathy laugh before leaning in to kiss him again, slow and lingering with a flash of wet tongue.

“Rick fucking Grimes,” he hummed, “what the hell am I going to do with you?” His grin turned mischievous all of a sudden like he’d gotten an idea, and Rick braced himself with hands on the boy’s waist, anticipating nonsense. “I seem to recall promising you a blow job if you came to call on me this evening, baby-”

“Nope!” Rick laughed, wriggling out of Negan’s arms, blushing furiously at the boy’s wicked leer sliding over him. “Let’s, uh. Let’s not jump right to that, alright? Ten minutes ago, I thought you were gonna tell me you weren’t interested. I haven’t…” Rick swallowed thickly, abruptly feeling embarrassed. That was something he’d never done before- casual sex, moving too fast. It was a point of shame for him, if he was completely honest with himself- the majority of his high school friends had dated casually and flirted around and Negan had obviously had his fair share of flings after Lucille. Negan had been with other men before, knew what sleeping with them entailed, and Rick, stacked against that, felt woefully small and unequipped. “It’s been a long time since I was with someone.”

Negan’s demeanor softened again, his hard, hungry lines melting into something sweet and patient. “Rick, baby,” he said, stroking through the curls at the nape of Rick’s neck, “I was joking. Well, half-joking. I’ll be honest, if you’d said yes, I’d already be on my knees-” Rick’s cheeks burned, “-but that’s not the point. There’s no rush, darlin’. I could spend days just kissing those perfect fucking lips of yours.” He planted a chaste kiss on Rick’s mouth as if to illustrate his point. “Now c’mon, let’s get the hell out of here. Last thing I need is another security guard catchin’ me in here with a boy.”

Rick nodded, relieved. "Yeah." And then, because it suddenly hit him, he stopped short with his hand caught on Negan's wrist. "Wait. Negan..."

"Yeah, baby?" Negan turned to him, eyes wide and curious. 

Rick's eyes flicked down to Negan's chest, frowning. "Is that...that's my fucking shirt, isn't it?"

Negan whooped with laughter, pressing falsely repentant kisses to Rick's fuzzy cheek. "It sure as shit is, baby. You've been keepin' me warm at night without even knowing it." They stepped out of the classroom, Negan locking the door behind him. 

"Yeah, well. Stop stealin' my clothes, you thief," Rick muttered halfheartedly, unable to be truly annoyed when Negan's hand was warm in his own.

"I seem to recall that _you_ still have my black hoodie from the night we administered vigilante justice, Rick. Pot, meet kettle."

"I just forgot!" Rick protested. "I haven't been wearin' it. It's still in my bag."

Negan pouted. "Wear it. It'd be cute."

"It's the middle of summer!"

"Pretty fuckin' please?" Negan batted his eyelashes, and Rick shone his flashlight right into his eyes to make it stop. 

Rick sighed, smiled, felt himself falling a little. " _Negan_. You're impossible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @ everyone for commenting/reading/leaving kudos, it means so so much!! <3


	10. Knock Me Down For a Six Anytime

“Scoot the fuck over, Rick.”

“ _Negan?_ ”

“Yeah, move in.”

“What the _hell_ are you-”

Rick felt himself being nudged closer and closer to the wall, and then warmth pressing against his back, solid and heavy with strong arms winding around his middle and a cold nose pressing against the nape of his neck. Beneath the blankets, Negan’s feet found his, toes rubbing against soles.

“Negan,” he sighed again, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Got used to sleepin’ beside you,” the boy mumbled into his skin, sleep-muted and warm. “You mind?”

Rick knew he couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour, even though he didn’t dare try to disentangle his legs from Negan’s to check the time. They’d gotten back to their dorm a little before midnight and had shyly kissed goodnight over the threshold of Rick’s doorway like they hadn’t been quite sure what to do with themselves, and then Rick had crawled into bed and tried not to let his rapidly racing thoughts of Negan consume him and keep him up until the early hours of the morning.

And now he was here, back in Rick’s bed like he’d been over the weekend at his parents', and Rick…didn’t mind.

“Fine, you big baby,” Rick murmured into his pillow, arching back to wriggle more comfortably into Negan’s arms, “you can stay. But don’t get used to it.”

“Mm,” Negan hummed, and if that was meant to be a word Rick had no hope of telling what it was. He wondered if Negan had sleepwalked into his room and would wake in the morning not knowing how he ended up with a Rick-shaped body pillow. Rick’s heavy eyelids had fluttered shut again, sleep reclaiming him easily, when Negan’s lips brushed a feather-light kiss to the sensitive skin right above the collar of his shirt and goosebumps prickled down Rick’s arms and neck as his hair stood on end. “Nigh’, babe,” Negan slurred, the words touching Rick through warm breath and lips.

“Night, Negan,” Rick whispered back, glad the boy was tired enough to miss the strain in his words.

* * *

It was strange, not hating Negan. Much like the boy himself, it took getting used to.

It was strange waking up in the morning to the blare of his alarm and Negan curled around or on top of him. It was stranger still when Negan kissed him- on the shoulder, on the cheek, on the lips, slow and sweet outside of the art building between classes for anyone to see.

But really, other than the kisses and touches and new bedmate, everything was the same. Negan was still Negan, hogging the shower and keeping late hours and flirting with Rick with his tongue stuck between his teeth.

“Do you think it’s weird?” Rick asked as he lay sprawled across Negan’s narrow frame on the couch. It was a warm Friday afternoon, all their classes were over for the week, and they were trying to figure out what to do for dinner. “That not a lot has changed, I mean. Between us.”

Negan cocked a dark eyebrow halfway up his forehead. “What the hell are you talking about, Rick? You think you’d be curled up on my chest like a goddamned kitten a week ago? _Hell_ no.”

“No, I mean…” Rick bit his lip, unsure of how to phrase it. “I mean _you_. You don’t act much different than you did. Except you kiss me. And now when you flirt with me I flirt back.”

“You _try_ to flirt back,” Negan corrected with a grin. “You’re a terrible flirt.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why I haven’t gotten laid in two years.” Rick planted a wet kiss on Negan’s waiting lips.

“Well, I know why I don’t act different? You wanna know why, Grimes?” Rick nodded. “It’s because in my mind I was already dating you. I was just waitin’ on you to catch up.”

Rick rolled his eyes dramatically and flopped back down onto Negan’s chest, chin resting on his folded arms to he could gaze into the boy’s hazel eyes. “Oh, we’re dating? Is that what we’re doin’? I thought you had to go out on dates to be dating.”

“Rick, Rick, _Rick!_ ” Negan crooned, carding fingers through his hair. It was getting long- he’d decided to let it grow, and it was beginning to curl wildly around his ears and at his neck. “You know I love that smart mouth of yours, baby, but I’m hurt. You don’t think we’re dating? What the hell do you think this is? Am I just an object to you? Something for you to _use_?” His tongue poked out to interrupt his laughing grin, and Rick flicked his nose.

“Well, right now you’re a pretty damn good couch.”

“Seriously, Rick- do you wanna go out on a date? I can take you on a date if that’s what you want.”

“I _am_ pretty hungry.”

“That right?” Negan purred, hands smoothing down Rick’s back to find the curve of his ass through his jeans. He gave it a couple playful squeezes, his gaze lazy and sedate. “I could go for somethin’ to eat too, baby.”

Rick inelegantly squirmed off of Negan, laughing and blushing furiously. “C’mon, you big pervert. I want real food.”

“Fine, fine,” Negan grunted, rolling off the couch and pecking Rick on the lips. “We’re takin’ my ride, though. It’s about time you met my _other_ baby.”

* * *

“Wait-”

“Yep, there she is.”

“But she’s…”

“Beautiful, ain’t she? You should hear her fuckin’ purr- my mom and I rebuilt this baby when I was eighteen. A 'graduation present' she called it, but I put a hell of a lot of man-hours into this thing. Paid for her in blood, sweat and tears. Literally- I cut myself digging through the scarp yard for this one part, was sweatin' like a pig working on her in the garage all damn day, and I got pretty fucking misty-eyed when we finally finished her.” Negan patted the seat of the motorcycle proudly, looking at the big black hog like it was his prodigious child.

Rick found his voice after a long moment of staring. It was a beautiful bike, after all, shining clean and glossy even though every other car in the lot was covered in a thin layer of yellow pollen dust. “I expected a car. Like the one in your photos.”

Negan shook his head, straddling the bike and unlocking the helmet from the side. “Nah, that’s my mom’s car. I’m lucky if she lets me _wash_ that thing. All through high school I drove a beat-to-hell pickup that my dad left behind until my mom taught me how to ride one of these. Hop on, Rick.” He held out the helmet and Rick frowned.

“You’re not wearing one?”

“I’ve only got the one.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s against the law to ride without one. And, you know. Dangerous.”

“ _I’m_ dangerous, baby. And doesn’t it just make you hard as hell?” Negan teased.

“Not right now it doesn’t! I don’t wanna think about your brains splattered across the sidewalk.”

Negan sighed and rolled his eyes with a haphazard smile, thrusting the helmet into Rick’s hands. “Alright, you win. There’s a shop maybe five miles from here. If we ride over there real slow-like and I get another helmet, will that make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Saddle up, Rick. And hold on real tight.”

Rick did as he was told, only a slight waver of nervousness as he straddled the Harley and pulled on the helmet, his hips flush with Negan’s, chest pressed to back and arms locked tight around the boy’s waist. Negan reached down for a moment, his gloved hand covering Rick’s and squeezing before he started up the bike with a roaring purr that made Rick jump.

“Don’t be scared, baby! I got you!” Negan shouted over the rumble.

“I’m not!” Rick called back, surprised to find that he was telling the truth. With his body pressed warm and tight against Negan’s and the whip of air at his clothes as Negan sped out of the parking lot, he felt gloriously alive. The only worry in his mind about Negan’s lack of helmet, and that was remedied in an easy twenty minutes at the bike shop down the road. Negan had him fitted with a new helmet and was already at the counter paying for it before Rick could get his bearings.

“Negan, you didn’t need to…I could have paid for it, it was for me, anyway,” Rick frowned as they walked out and other boy pulled his own helmet on. He slid onto the bike, waiting for Negan to join him.

“It’s no problem, Rick! I said I’d take you on a date, and this is part of it! You can take me out next time and cover my fare. I don’t mind, baby- I needed a second one, anyway. Always good to have one in case somebody needs a ride. Or if I wanna give ‘em one.” He flicked his visor up just to drop a sly wink at Rick. “You look damn sexy on my bike, darlin’. Straddlin’ her so nice with those gorgeous thighs…” Rick flushed and tipped his head up at Negan, who had backed off a couple feet and was staring at him, eyes shielded beneath his helmet.

“The hell are you doin’? Aren’t you hungry? I’m pretty sure the only thing I’ve seen you eat today is the last of the cake.”

Negan unzipped one jacket pocket and drew out his phone, pointing it at Rick. “Pose for me real quick. Just like you were- yeah, like that! Fuck yeah!” He snapped a couple pictures before tucking his phone away again, and Rick could tell he was grinning without even having to see it. “So goddamn sexy, Rick.” He slung his leg over the bike and started her up again, and Rick clung tight. “Yeah, hold onto me, honey. Not gonna be so gentle with you now.”

Rick’s thighs clenched around the seat and they sped away, Negan’s joy-filled whooping and hollering audible even over the engine’s roar. Negan hadn’t been lying- now that they were both helmeted and safe, he made no attempts to go slow or easy, and despite the warmth of the sun on his back, Rick felt the chill of the air streaming through his clothes. He still wasn’t afraid, though- no, for once he felt free, solid and yet full of flight as the two of them rumbled down long, winding backroads where few people drove. Rick watched as evening rapidly turned to dusk, the sun setting over the lines of heavy pines that framed the road.

He realized that he and Negan had never said where exactly they were going to eat, but Rick found that he didn’t really care. In fact, until they came to a stop at a little roadside diner in the middle of who-knows-where, Rick had forgotten his hunger altogether.

“I know it’s not exactly five stars,” Negan said as they dismounted, “but I’m a big believer in the good old-fashioned American diner. It alright if we eat here? I’ve never been, I’ll just be up front about that, so if we get e-coli or mad cow disease some shit…it’s not my fault.” He pulled off his helmet and locked it up and Rick chuckled at the way his dark hair, which had been carefully slicked back before they’d left campus, was now sticking up at odd angles like a crown of black thorns.

“Yeah, let’s give it a shot.” The place looked homey enough, and when they stepped inside, they were greeted warmly by a pretty, dark-haired waitress who handed them their laminated menus and then ducked off to get their drinks. It was quiet, even for a Friday night, only a couple of other people tucked away into bright blue upholstered booths and two older women sitting on barstools and exchanging easy, quiet conversation over mugs of coffee.

“Let’s see what they got…breakfast all day, the way god fuckin’ intended, that’s a good start.” Negan’s leg wound around Rick’s beneath the table and they exchanged smiles over the tops of their menus. “It says here ‘eggs, any way you want them’. You think I could order eggs benedict or some fancy shit like that and they’d do that for me? Holy _shit_ , they got cinnamon rolls…”

“It says here they serve ‘sushi’,” Rick observed with finger quotes, “but that it’s made with bacon and grits and then deep fried.”

“No it does not,” Negan gaped incredulously, scanning his menu for said atrocity. 

“It does!” Rick laughed, “right there under ‘lunch specials’.”

“Ho- _ly_ fuck. They got a picture of that shit? No? Well, then we’ve gotta get it. There’s no way I’m livin’ the rest of my life without seeing that shit with my own two eyes. I may eat it and wish I was dead after, but I’ve got to do it.”

They ordered after a few minutes’ careful consideration and their waitress- _Tara_ , her nametag read- bounced off to the kitchen. Rick wondered if she was the only one working there- he hadn’t seen so much as a hairnet bob from behind the window.

“So, did you like her?”

Rick blinked, cocked his head. “Who?” and then, when Negan looked amused- “Oh, the bike. Yeah, I really did. It was…it was somethin’ else. I’d never been on one, but you probably guessed that. I felt free. Wild. Is that stupid?” Rick laughed at himself and took a swig of his coffee. “I mean, I was just riding it. All I had to do was hold on. But it was really somethin'.” A shy smile crept across his face, and he reached for Negan’s hand, squeezing it between his own. “Thank you. For takin’ me out.”

Something genuine and warm lit up Negan’s face, and Rick thought he caught the faintest hint of pink on the boy’s cheeks as he lifted Rick’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Any-fucking-time, darlin’. You say the word and we can hit the road, just you and me and the wind at our backs.”

“I may take you up on that come finals week. Don’t tempt me,” Rick warned.

“Come finals week I’ll be lightin’ out of here with you behind me whether you ask for it or not. I get all stressed and itchy takin’ tests and shit. Critiques I can handle, let me talk all the live-long and I'll be a happy man. But tests? Fuck, I need to take a fuckin’ mop in there with me for all the sweat. Fuck me for puttin’ off my science credits for this long. I don’t remember high school biology bein’ this bad.”

“I can help you study, if you want,” Rick offered. “I finished bio last semester.”

Negan smiled, flirty and dangerous, and slid his fingers up Rick’s forearm, making the warm skin tingle. “I’d rather you take a couple days off with me, honey. Go up to the mountains, maybe. Ridin’ on mountain roads is fucking _otherworldly_ \- when nobody else is around, it feels like you’re the last person on earth up there, lost in the wild. And it’d be better with you there, all pressed up behind me… _mm-hm_ , Rick,” Negan’s tongue swiped over his lips, and Rick suddenly felt suffocatingly hot despite the cool air-conditioned diner. “Did you feel it when you were ridin’ her, baby?” Negan’s voice was a low, insinuating rumble that made Rick want to squirm in his seat. “That purr right up between your legs? Makes you fuckin’ _hard_ , don’t it, Rick?”

Rick was sure that his face looked like he was about to burst into flame, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly for a moment before Tara popped up beside them and announced that, “Food’s ready, boys! Alright, that was strawberry-banana waffles and a side of sweet potato fries for you-” she slid Rick’s plate in front of him and Rick felt his mouth water the moment the heavenly scent filled his nose. “-And you had the cinnamon rolls and the sushi…damn, you’re brave. I don’t think we’ve had anyone order that for at least a month. It’s better than it sounds, though, I promise!” Tara assured Negan, who was looking at her with great skepticism. “The cook here’s real good. _Ain’t that right, Ro?_ ” she called back toward the kitchen.

“Damn straight!” A pretty Latina girl who couldn’t have been much older than Rick himself popped her head out of the kitchen just long enough to drop a wink in Tara’s direction before disappearing again.

Rick was grateful for the silence that their food brought, though every little noise of pleasure that escaped his or Negan’s lips at the taste of the delicious food- and it _was_ damned delicious, Tara hadn’t been lying- conjured up thoughts in Rick’s brain about how else they could draw those noises out of each other. It was right _there_ now, all out in the open now that Negan had given it a voice. Rick felt it in the way their eyes caught on each other and lingered when they both glanced up from their plates at the same time, in the slide of Negan’s ankle against his calf beneath the table like they were middle school sweethearts playing footsie in the cafeteria.

“Holy _fuck_ , Rick, you’ve gotta try this.” Negan offered him a bite of the deep-fried “sushi” off his fork, looking questionable but smelling like a fried state fair confection. “Open up.”

Rick cut him with a deadpan look and took to fork, letting his teeth scrape the metal as he accepted the offered bite. It was a thin, thin attempt to dissuade Negan’s dirty mind, and Rick could tell the moment their eyes met and Negan was still smirking that it had failed miserably.

“You like usin’ your teeth, baby? That’s alright by me, ‘long as you use ‘em right. I like it a little rough-”

“This is surprisingly not terrible,” Rick conceded after he’d swallowed, pointedly cutting off the blatant innuendo. “You wanna bite of mine? The waffles are real good.”

Negan’s dark brows furrowed together, his expression confused and questioning for an uncomfortable few seconds that Rick felt like hours before he relaxed and took a bite of Rick’s waffle, swiping it through the small puddle of melted butter on the plate. “Oh, damn- that’s fucking _good_. Not as good as my pancakes, but it’s pretty damn tasty, Rick.”

And that was it. No wink, no allusions to anything else Negan may find pretty damn tasty, just…dinner, and then Negan insisting that he pay the full check because, “I said I’d take you on a date, baby! You can get me next time, like I said.”

And then they were back outside, and Negan was helmeted and patting the back of the bike and Rick didn’t know what to make of it. Was he upset that Rick had blown off his flirting? Rick bit his lip as he slid on the helmet, pulling the strap tight and flipping the visor down.

_Of course he’s pissed. You’re fucking dating, he took you out and bought you a helmet and dinner and you’ve been sharing a bed and making out in every goddamn place you can for a week, and you can’t handle him taking it any further because-_

“Rick, hey- you alright? Ready to go?” Negan was staring at him again, his visor flipped up. Rick nodded weakly, straddling the seat and clutching Negan’s waist.

“Yeah,” he answered, “ready.”

* * *

Rick tried not to think about it- tried to concentrate on the thrill of the ride like he had the first time, but Negan’s words, smooth and sultry as silk sheets, filled his mind. “ _That purr right up between your legs? Makes you fuckin’ hard, don’t it, Rick?”_

And now it was all he could think about, the rumble of the engine beneath him and the way it resonated through the seat against his thighs his ass, right up against his crotch which was pressed up against Negan-

He squirmed, trying to be subtle about it, still holding tight, but- it had been a week. Over a week, actually. Negan had been in his bed every night, and as Rick had discovered, the goddamned lock on the bathroom door didn’t work and now that they were…whatever they were, Negan didn’t see the point in trying to be subtle about hanging around in the bathroom while Rick showered, brushing his teeth or eating breakfast or just trying to hold a conversation while Rick was washing his hair. He just didn’t think about it until the times he was with Negan and they were on one of their beds or the couch, wrapped around each other with hands roaming up shirts and mouths exploring…and then he just _couldn’t_ because the thought terrified him.

But now, with Negan’s words fresh in his brain and the bike beneath him, Rick felt himself getting hard.

They pulled into the lot and parked, and Rick tried to will himself down as Negan locked up their helmets, as they walked silently, awkwardly, back to their dorm. Rick was tempted to bolt straight to his room and invent some kind of food poisoning excuse to sleep alone that night, but before he could start smearing the name of Ro’s strawberry-banana waffles, Negan’s hand was on Rick’s shoulder, his eyes full of concern.

“Hey, Rick, I…look, about what I said at dinner…I shouldn’t have. I mean- I said we’d take it slow. I meant that. It’s not an excuse, I know I was being…it was too fucking much, I know that. I’m used to teasing the shit out of you like that but I guess it’s different now, huh? Fucking means something.” He looked sheepish, and Rick couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t understand why he was the one apologizing. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just me running my mouth, you know how I fucking am. You don’t have to- I don’t want you to feel like you have to-”

“Negan,” Rick frowned, “what the hell are you- you don’t need to apologize to me. If anything, I should be-” he bit his tongue at the look on Negan’s face.

“What the hell do _you_ need to apologize to _me_ for, Rick? You can’t be fucking serious.”

Rick glanced down at his feet, feeling his face grow warm. “I…I mean, you probably thought that- that we’d be-”

“That we’d have fucked already?" Rick nodded weakly. "Christ, Rick, I know I come across like a fucking deviant but I can wait a goddamn week if you don’t want to-”

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to,” Rick admitted, unable to look Negan in the eye. “It’s just that…I haven’t- not ever…”

“I thought you had a girlfriend in high school?”

“I did! I mean, I did- with her- a few times, but…I haven’t with anyone else. Not with…never with a guy.” Rick flushed miserably, shame pulling the words right out of him. “Lori and I, we…we were together about a year, and it took us both so long to be comfortable enough…I mean, I was always kind of a worrier, and her parents were really strict, my parents wouldn’t let us stay in the house alone and always checked in on us every ten minutes. I was always so worried about getting caught, so we didn’t…we didn’t get to have sex a lot. I mean- we had sex, but it wasn’t, like, all the time, like it’s supposed to be, you know?”

“How the hell is it supposed to be?” Negan asked, tilting his head. 

“You know, just- all the time. Just finding all these secluded places to do it where you don’t get caught and it’s perfect and shit. We never found a place like that. Fuck, we lost our fucking virginity to each other on the floor of Shane’s goddamned bedroom with him downstairs playing Call of Duty because he would call and let us know sometimes if his parents weren’t home and he didn’t already have someone over.” Rick laughed, a little embarrassed. “I remember laying there after and I asked her how it was and I could hear Shane fucking shouting at some person for friendly fire.”

Negan snorted.

“But- yeah. And then I haven’t…for two years, I haven’t been with _anyone_ , and I’ve never been with a guy, and you…you’ve got all this experience. And I know it sounds stupid, but I just…I want to be good. I want it to be good for both of us and I don’t know how to- to give a blowjob or jerk someone off or- or…” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his reddened face. “I feel like you’re going to be disappointed because most people have more experience than me and-I don’t know. I feel like I should have done more than I have.”

Negan chewed his lip, leaning against the kitchen counter, and Rick’s mind helpfully supplied _you just scared him off, you’re being too whiny, too insecure, you just fucking told him you won’t be any good in bed, he’s not going to want you-_

“Rick,” Negan murmured, cupping the back of his neck and drawing him in closer, thick storm clouds of worry covering his face. “You can’t really think that I wouldn’t want you because of that, right? I mean…fuck, there’s people that don’t fuck anyone ‘til they’re married, ‘til they’re forty- I’m not expecting you to fuck like a goddamned porn star.”

Rick tipped his face up, gazing up at Negan through long lashes. “I want to be _good_ , though,” he whispered into the space between their lips, quiet and soft like he was entrusting Negan with something sacred. "For you."

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan breathed, voice hitching, “you don’t even know what you do to me, Rick. Got no fucking _clue_.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Rick repeated, “I do, I really fucking- on the ride home, all I could think about was what you said at the diner, and I got so fucking _hard_ …”

Negan let out a stuttered, hissing breath, fingers twining into Rick’s long curls. “Jesus _Christ_ , Rick-”

“I don’t want to be a tease, I’m not trying to- I just want you to know that it’s not that I don’t want it,” Rick tried to clarify. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. Really fucking- really nervous. I’ve never even,” he swallowed thickly, laughing at himself, his own naiveté and embarrassment. “Never even touched myself- like that. With something inside. I mean- I know it can- that it can go both ways, but I- I figured, you-” he wondered if it was possible to overheat himself to the point of spontaneous combustion. Negan’s fingers were warm in his hair, the taller boy’s mouth slack as a flush colored his cheekbones.

“I want to fuck you,” Negan agreed feverishly, licking his lips. “Want- want everything. Want to fuck you, want you to fuck me, want- _Christ_ , Rick, I’ll take you any way you want-”

“That’s how I pictured- how I keep thinking about it. Most of the time. When I think of us together for the first time.”

“You think about us?” Negan rasped.

“Yeah,” Rick murmured, “I keep…but it’s always when I can’t- or when I’m in the shower and you walk in and try to talk about how much of a dick your psychology professor is- which is fine! I like that you- I like talkin’ to you. But I haven’t been able to- for a week-”

Negan’s forehead pressed to his, and the boy let out a long, slow breath that tickled Rick’s nose. “Fuck. Jesus, Give me five fucking seconds, alright? Five seconds.”

“Why-”

“Because I just about creamed my goddamned jeans picturing you getting off to the thought of my dick up your ass, now stop talking so I can think as straight as I can for a guy that wants to fuck the shit out of another guy.”

Rick laughed shakily, feeling warm all over, sweat sticking his shirt to the small of his back. _Gross_.

Negan took another deep breath and slowly stepped away from Rick, and Rick’s eyes fell to the front of Negan’s jeans which were sporting a prominent bulge that made Rick’s mouth go dry. “Alright, Rick. I’m glad we had that talk- I’m…fuck. Alright. So here’s what I’m thinking.” He smiled at Rick, tracking his bottom lip with the pad of his leather-clad thumb. “We’re not gonna fuck tonight. Obviously. Because you- you’re worried about it, right? You’re not ready?”

Guilt pulsed though Rick as he eyed Negan’s obvious erection. “I- I’m sorry-”

“Rick, nonono! You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby! I fucking promise you, alright? Pinkie swear. I want you to be good and ready when we fuck, alright? The only thing I want you to be feeling is so fucking sexy and turned on that you don’t feel nervous, alright? Or, at least good nervous. Not guilty-nervous. Not…embarrassed-nervous, because there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Alright,” Rick smiled weakly, relieved and disappointed all at once.

“But-” Negan murmured, smile returning. “I’m gonna give you something, alright? And I’m not gonna stay in your room tonight- you need some time to yourself.” He dropped a wink in Rick’s direction and disappeared down the hall with a shout of “stay right there, baby!” He was back a moment later, all teeth and grins, and pressed something into the clammy palm of Rick’s hand.

Rick glanced, felt himself turn scarlet all the way down to his jeans.

“I want you to use that on yourself- if you want to! Only if you want to. Doesn’t have to be tonight, just…whenever you want to try it.” Negan’s lips were at his ear, warm breath making him shiver. “Go slow. Be patient with yourself. Slide your fingers in one at a time-”

Rick whimpered low in his throat, feeling his cock twitch against the confining layers of denim and cotton.

“Stretch yourself open. Get used to it, so that way when I touch you- when you’re ready, and we’re in bed together, and I’m fingering you-”

Rick wondered if he’d stopped breathing altogether, if there was any air left in the room at all.

“And then when I’m between your thighs, sliding my cock into you-”

Rick bit down hard on his tongue, not sure what kind of noise would escape if he didn’t.

“You’ll have an idea of what it feels like. It won’t be just like it- it took me fucking _forever_ to find my sweet spot on my own- but it’ll be one more thing you’ve done. Sound good?”

Rick took a little comfort in the fact that Negan sounded just as strained as he felt.

“Yeah,” he managed, fingers slip-sliding on the bottle clutched in his hand. “Sounds good.”

Negan smiled at him, warm as summer sunlight. “Good.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Rick’s forehead. “Goodnight, Rick.”

And then he was gone.

Rick stood there in the kitchen for a long moment feeling like he’d been swept up by a hurricane and just now dropped back down to earth. _Hurricane Negan_ , he mused as stepped into his bedroom, stripped off the clothes that were now damp with sweat, the lube sitting on his bedside table. _It’s fitting._

His dick was achingly hard, and he already knew that between what had gone on in the kitchen and the bike and not getting off for a week, he wouldn’t last long. He looked over at the bottle for a moment before deciding to use it another night when he wasn’t so impatient to get off, when he hadn’t been hard for close to an hour and his balls didn’t feel like they were about to explode.

Instead, he crawled into bed in his underwear, not bothering to slide beneath the covers that he knew would make him feel like he was suffocating with the heat. He rolled onto his belly, slipping a hand beneath himself and into his briefs, stifling a long-awaited groan of relief when he got a fist around his cock. He rutted his hips into his hand, into the mattress, back arching and knees spreading wide as he pictured Negan behind him, pulling his underwear down and pushing inside and holding his hips as he fucked him so fucking _good_ -

Rick smothered the messy moans of his orgasm into the bedsheets, aware that he was drooling into them and not caring, just desperately riding out the high as his hips twitched and jerked into his fist.

He was still breathing heavy and coming down when he heard his phone buzz, and he used the hand that wasn’t covered in come to check it, a new text from Negan glowing on the screen.

_Sorry I didn’t kiss you properly, I just really didn’t want to come in my fucking pants on our first date._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for any and all feedback on this fic! The update next week will be a little late because I'll be out of town through tuesday but after that it should go back to normal.


	11. No More Hard-Headed Saturdays

After his talk with Negan, Rick felt like he’d been unburdened by a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been hauling around with him. It was all out there now, the depth of his insecurity about the next step in their relationship, and it felt _good_. Like everything else about Negan, Rick found himself pleasantly surprised by how quickly he’d spilled to him. He liked that a lot- it was so rare that he found someone he could easily open himself up to.

“Mm. Mornin’, baby,” Negan hummed, dropping a kiss onto the top of Rick’s shower-damp head as he ambled sleepily into the kitchen. “Guess you already ate and shit, huh? Can’t believe you wake up this early when you don’t have to.” He rummaged through the refrigerator, seemingly unaware of Rick’s distracted state as he followed the line of Negan’s bare back as it disappeared into his boxers.

“Can’t believe you sleep half the damn day away,” Rick retorted, stealing a moon-shaped marshmallow or two from Negan’s bowl of Lucky Charms as the boy poured it. “You ever watched the sun rise?”

“If I was ever up early enough for that I sure as shit wasn’t watching the sun.” Negan stuck his tongue out and scooped up a spoonful of cereal.

“It’s real pretty, especially if you’re at the beach or somethin’ where you can really see it.” Rick nabbed another marshmallow and Negan pouted.

“You’re stealing the best part, Rick!”

“You want me to just eat ‘em out of the box? I can do that,” Rick offered, only to laugh when said box was jerked out of his grasp.

“Hell no! I can just see that, you eatin’ out all the marshmallows and leavin’ me with a box full of glorified Cheerios. If you can’t be a grown up and eat the boring stuff then I’m gonna have to insist you stick to your Rice Krispies.”

“No marshmallows in Rice Krispies,” Rick pointed out, and Negan slid into the chair beside him, dragging it close enough that they could touch shoulders. “Which ones are your favorites? The marshmallows, I mean.”

Negan grinned, kissing the tip of Rick’s nose. “The rainbow. Fucking duh.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“You like the moons, then? Because you seem pretty intent on eatin’ ‘em all out of my bowl.”

“Yep. I like the moons the best.”

Negan’s eyes twinkled devilishly, lips forming a goofy grin around the spoon in his mouth. “I bet you like that moon, baby.”

Rick dug his elbow into Negan’s ribs. “You’re an ass. A full ass.”

“A full _moon_ , you mean.”

“I’ll show you a full moon.”

“Oh, we’re gonna do this now? I can’t finish my breakfast first?”

“You can’t multitask?” Rick teased, laughing and pressing his knee to Negan’s.

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s too early for this, I can’t think straight enough to tease you back. _Here_ , you adorable pain-in-my-ass.” Negan plucked a slightly milk-sodden moon marshmallow out of his bowl and popped it into Rick’s mouth before kissing him firmly. “Happy now?”

The sugar melted quick and sweet on Rick’s tongue, but he was craving more of Negan’s lips than the marshmallows. “Yeah. Ass doesn’t taste half bad.”

“Fuck!” Negan choked on his spoon, wheezing with tears in the corners of his eyes as Rick pounded him on the back and they nearly slid off their chairs laughing. “Fuck!” he rasped again, rubbing at his eyes, “you just about made me deep-throat that fucking spoon. No more out of you, Grimes. Your flirting is dangerous.”

“Coward,” Rick accused, planting a wet kiss on Negan’s jaw.

* * *

“Why don’t you have parties over here anymore? Is it because I got pissed that first night?” Rick asked curiously, stretching his legs out across Negan’s bed as he laid against the boy’s shoulder, watching him tweak photos for a project on lighting. Negan shook his head, hummed a negative, and popped another Skittle into Rick’s mouth. The fingers lingered on his lips for a moment, and Rick gave them a kiss.

“Nah. Uh- I’ll be honest with you, Rick. It’s cause Mark threw kind of a fit after that night. One too many times hitting on Amber while he’s in the room, some shit like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” Rick sighed, unable to hide the fondness even when Negan was talking about being terrible.

“That I am. I thought Mark understood that, though! I thought they all did. But apparently- and these are Dwight’s words, not mine- there’s been ‘tension brewing’ for a long time.” He sighed, kicking the blanket covering his feet further down the bed and snapping his laptop shut, rolling over to cuddle into Rick. “I dunno. I mean- We were never like…it was always just people getting’ together because we liked doing the same shit, you know? We’d meet at other people’s parties and hook up or flirt or shoot the shit, and then we’d do it again, and eventually we’d do shit on our own…but we were ever really _close_ , you know? And I know that’s on me, too. I’m a dick, I’ve done some shit that people would have kicked my ass for if I wasn’t so damn smooth…and that’s not me talking myself up! I’m just saying- the guy willing to bring the beer or order the pizza or DD for the night to make up for makin’ out with another guy’s crush or whatever…you can forgive him for a lot. I guess it was always gonna come back around to bite me in the ass, though.”

“I’m…sorry,” Rick mumbled into Negan’s neck between lazy kisses, not sure how if he should be sorry for Negan or his friends or at all.

“Nah. Don’t feel sorry for _me_ , baby. I earned it. That’s alright, though. They’re just party buddies. We’ve had so many blow-out fights over the last year or two that we all pretty much hate each other or are hate-fucking each other by now. I’ve got other friends- and I’ve got you- and that’s all I really want, anyway. A few good pals and a hot guy in my bed kissin’ my neck.”

Rick snorted and burrowed in closer, letting Negan’s warm hands slide down his side and hitch his knee up over the taller boy’s hip. It was dark outside- a lazy Saturday in that they’d spent alternating between watching movies, making out, and working on assignments. Rick had given up on his art history paper on analytical cubism and Picasso over an hour ago and had been laying around Negan’s room ever since, cuddling and tossing Skittles at each other, mostly missing their mouths.

“You callin’ it a day?” Rick breathed out between wet kisses. Negan’s hands were under the back of his shirt, rubbing circles down the knobs of his spine.

“Mmhm,” lips found the curve of Rick’s throat, kissing down, down, down until Negan was stretching out the collar of Rick’s t-shirt to get to the sensitive skin right above his collarbone, teeth and tongue coming out to play. “Got somethin’ more fun to do.”

“That- _ooh_ \- that right?” Rick’s eyes slipped shut and he let himself get lost in the hazy fog of pleasure that was Negan’s body against his own. Negan’s mouth was still working as his hands slid up the front of Rick’s shirt, over his belly and rucking up the fabric in his need to get at bare skin. A particularly hard suck to the already-abused flesh just as Negan’s fingers skimmed over a perky nipple saw Rick letting loose a breathy, needy sound and tightening his leg around Negan’s waist to draw the boy in closer.

It was an instant later, in a fit of want and lust so strong that Rick felt breathless with it, that Negan was on top of him, nestled in between his spread legs and giving him sloppy kisses that were more tongue and panting than kissing. “You- you like that, baby?” Negan pushed Rick’s shirt further up his chest, shamelessly admiring the tight pull of his muscles while his fingers circled one rosy nub. Rick nodded eagerly, arching up against Negan, loving the boy’s weight between his legs and how he looked now- wanting and open and so, so smitten.

“Yeah- yes.” He didn’t really need to say anything- he was sure Negan could feel just how much he loved it, hot and hard and pressed up against Negan’s stomach through his sweatpants.

“Fuck yeah you do,” their hips rolled together, Rick’s cock straining at the cotton and Negan’s mouth hanging slackly open, cheeks pinked. “I can feel it. Mm, Rick.” Negan’s hands slid beneath Rick’s hips, gripping at the waist of his pants and thumbing at the soft, forbidden skin just beneath the hem. “God, I want you. _Fuck_ , baby, I want you so fucking _bad_ , the second I got in my fucking room last night I started touching myself thinkin’ about you- you in the next room, all hard and riled up-” Rick groaned, thighs closing around Negan’s waist. He wanted to be closer, as close as he could get. There were four godforsaken layers of fabric between their aching cocks and that was far, far too much. His fingers threaded in the long strands of Negan’s dark hair and he guided the boy back to his neck, wanted to be marked, to wake up in the morning and see the evidence of Negan’s lust lingering in red and purple all across his throat.

“ _Mm,_ _Negan_. Keep goin’, keep goin’, baby.” It was the first time Rick had let slip a pet name the way Negan so casually did- if felt like a moment, like a cautious step forward, and Negan adored it, if the way he moaned faintly and ground his hips down against Rick’s was anything to go by.

“Oh, _fuck_ , say that again, Rick. Just how you said it, all fuckin’ low and sexy like you just did.” Negan’s words fell from his lips and graced Rick’s skin in the form of warm breath, as heavy and labored as Rick felt himself getting.

“Baby, baby, baby…” Rick groaned as their hips rocked together in sweet tandem, his hands mapping out all the dips and curves of Negan’s back, his spine, down to his ass where his hands finally came to rest, using the leverage there to guide their erratic grinding. He could feel himself getting overly warm, and was glad that Negan had kicked the covers down so that they were all spilling off the foot of the bed and onto the floor. He wished now that he’d gotten his shirt off, maybe let Negan undress him halfway with eager hands.

Negan was licking a long stripe up the line of Rick’s throat when his phone vibrated once on his messy side table, the buzz echoing against the wood.

“Ignore it,” Rick pleaded, wiggling his fingertips into the pockets of Negan’s jeans.

“No fucking argument here, darlin’,” Negan murmured, fingers playing with the now-hard bud of Rick’s nipple, rolling it gently between his fingertips and making Rick arch up into the touch. Negan’s hands found Rick’s face, bringing their mouths together again, heavy and sweet as syrup. Rick’s mind fizzled out, getting lost in the exchange of tongue and lips, caught between wanting to spread his legs wider for Negan to rut between and close them tight around the boy’s waist to pull him closer when the phone buzzed again, twice this time.

“Fuck ‘em,” Negan groaned, his pupils blow wide with eyes only for the boy beneath him. Rick nodded feverishly, reaching up to draw Negan back down to him when the phone rang insistently and Negan groaned again, this time more pained than aroused. “Fuck _me_.” He blindly groped for his phone, still nestled between Rick’s thighs when he checked the caller ID and made a noise of intense distress, burying his face into the chest of a very confused Rick, his voice muffled as he answered.

“What the _fuck_ do you want, Simon? This shit had better be life and death. You’d better be bleeding out on the floor of your goddamned bedroom right now with nobody else to call.”

Rick was close enough and Negan’s phone up loud enough that he could hear Simon on the other line, his voice lilting and amused even through the speaker. “Nice to hear from you too, jackass. You forget about today?”

“Today?”

“Yeah. _Today?_ You know, night shoots? For that fucking prick Gareth’s class?”

Negan’s head jolted up so quickly Rick was worried he’d give himself whiplash. “Shit!”

“It’s due Monday, jackass! Did you fucking forget we were doing it tonight? And you _still_ have my new lens, you’d better not leave me hanging-”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan moaned, one hand dragging over his mouth in distress. “Any chance you can give me, like…a half fucking hour?”

“Are you joking? I’m already at the place, it’s an hour off campus and I’ve been here for fifteen trying to get ahold of you, I’m getting eaten the fuck alive by mosquitos and I’m pretty sure that if I stay here alone much longer I’m gonna get disemboweled by a guy with a hook for a hand or some shit! I _know_ you’re not asking me to wait on you any longer because you want to get blown by your fuck of the week-”

Rick and Negan both tensed against each other in tandem, Negan with guilt and Rick with unease.

“He’s not-” hazel eyes implored blue ones to understand. “He’s not a fucking _fuck of the week_. But I’ll be there.”

“Haul ass, man. I think I hear rustling in the woods. If you get here and I’m gone, just know I died pissed at your ass for forgetting your best fucking friend.”

Negan sighed and hung up, looking down at Rick with sincere apology in his eyes. “Baby, I’m so fuckin’ sorry- I completely forgot I was supposed to meet him- if I didn’t have his lens I’d tell him to do it on his own, but he can’t do the project without it...”

Rick offered him a small smile, waving him off. “No, it’s okay. Really. He’s your friend- your best friend? I didn’t know you had one. You should go.” He leaned up, kissing Negan one last time, wanting to linger and smiling broadly when he felt the boy try to chase his lips for a moment before reluctantly drawing away and adjusting himself in his jeans.

“I’m sorry about leaving you- while we were…” Negan trailed off, and Rick stretched languidly. He noticed how Negan’s eyes stayed faithfully stuck on his tented crotch, and he gave a teasing smirk, spreading his legs a little wider.

“It’s alright. Nothin’ I don’t know how to handle. Who’s to say you were gonna get any, anyway?” The taunt came out in a fit of flirtatious boldness, and the result was Negan gawping at him for a moment, eyes wide, before blowing out a slow, shaky breath. He looked like he was struggling with every scrap of willpower he had to wrestle down his desire and force his steps out the door and not back into bed.

“Fuck. You’re a goddamned fucking _tease_ , Rick Grimes. I’ll remember that about you.” He didn’t dare let himself kiss Rick goodbye, just waved before walking stiffly out the door. Rick was sure he heard muttered curses before their front door closed and locked behind him.

Rick sighed, lying back against the pillow. His phone buzzed in his pocket less than a minute after Negan’s departure.

_Sorry about what Simon said, too. About fuck of the week or wtf ever. That’s not what you are. I don’t want you to think that’s what you are._

Rick felt the little tangle of worry that Simon’s words had knotted up in his chest loosen. _Good. Glad I’m not,_ he replied.

_Wish I could have stayed. I’m about to get on my bike. I’ll see you later, alright?_

_Be safe._

_I will._

Rick smiled and set his phone atop Negan’s laptop, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t want to leave- if he was smart, he’d go back to his room and whittle away at the sketches he’d been working on for his next painting. He’d study for the midterm he had coming up on Wednesday, proofread his paper.

But he was in Negan’s room, in his bed, surrounded by his scent, his cock still hard and straining against his sweats. Negan was gone, but the memory of the weight of him between his hips, mouth to mouth and chest to chest, lingered on Rick’s skin, his tongue.

He ran his palm over the bulge in the thick fabric, a messy moan spilling from his lips. _Fuck_ , that was good- not nearly as good as Negan’s body rolling and clashing with his own, but it tended to the sweet ache still burning there. He was about to slide a hand beneath the waistband when he remembered what Negan had given him last night.

He was out of the bed and in his bedroom in an instant, retrieving the small bottle and worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before returning to Negan’s room and sinking back into the rumbled sheets. Rick couldn’t resist. They smelled like _him_ , like the warm, lazy day they’d spent in bed together laughing and cuddling and watching Youtube videos of cats getting stuck in weird places every time Negan got bored of editing pictures and needed a three-minute break.

Tentatively, more shyly than he normally would in the familiarity of his own bedroom, he slid his pants down his thighs, opting to kick them off entirely so that they joined Negan’s thick gray comforter. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath- which was something that Negan had discovered about ten minutes after Rick curled up next to him, his fingers idly dipping just below the waistband as he’d rubbed Rick’s back, finding nothing but warm skin beneath. He’d sucked in a breath, eyes dark and locked on Rick’s, and Rick had practically been able to read his dirty thoughts as they danced through his mind.

Rick drew that look back out now that he was alone with thighs parted and dick stiff and hard against his lower belly- how Negan had licked slowly over his lips, kissed him with a swirl of tongue, clutched at his bare hip like he needed something to hold onto to ground himself and keep him from sliding his hand lower to do some exploring. The way things had been going before Negan had to leave, with them frantically pawing at each other and grinding, Rick would have let him. He focused in on that- what could have been- as he reached for the bottle, flipping the cap and squeezing a pearl of lube out onto his fingers. He spread his knees wider on the bed, one knee knocking against the wall, and reached down to circle the tight pucker of muscle there. He breathed out slowly, relaxing and still focusing on thoughts of Negan when he put pressure there, his slick finger slowly sinking inside.

The breath trembled out of him in a warm gust, teeth sinking into his lip. It was a new sensation, strange and full in a way that made him as nervous as he was curious. He’d felt Negan against him more than once while they’d been making out, and he was definitely bigger than one of Rick’s fingers. If this felt like a stretch, what would Negan feel like inside him?

Pushing aside his worry and focusing on his burgeoning arousal instead, Rick tentatively withdrew his finger slowly and then pushed it back inside, eyes fluttering closed as he focused on the sensation. He built up a careful rhythm, one finger inside and his free hand stroking his dripping dick in time with the nudges inward until the fullness felt less and less uncomfortable and more pleasant, warmth taking hold and rooting itself there. He stopped for a moment to drizzle more lube onto his fingers, coating two this time before sliding them in, hissing a little at the sting and taking his cock in hand again to distract himself while he adjusted to the warm stretch. He crooked the fingers experimentally, searching, remembering where he’d read that that certain spot was. He played with the head of his cock as he did, spreading the slippery wetness down his shaft for a better glide, picturing how good it would feel if it was Negan’s hand on him instead of his own, Negan’s long fingers sliding in deep. Surely, the boy would know how to make him feel good, how to find the spot that made him unravel completely-

“ _Ah!_ ” Rick cried out unexpectedly, eyes flying open as his fingers rubbed over something that had him writhing with pleasure and rutting his hips down for _more_. He rubbed over it again, and again, and then slid his fingers over it when he began to thrust them again, toes curling and sweat dripping onto Negan’s sheets. He felt overheated, insatiable, deliciously filled but still with an ache in him that he desperately wanted Negan to fill. He wanted him, he wanted him, he _wanted_ him, wanted him here, in this bed, in his body, making him feel so fucking _good_ the way Rick just knew that he could.

When he came, it was to the thought of Negan’s roguish smirk hovering over him, his warm body pressed close, his hard cock sliding in and out the way Rick’s own fingers were, filling him up completely.

“Well, shit,” Rick murmured, unsticking the sheets from his legs and trying to wriggle out of the bed without come dripping everywhere. He felt sticky and wet with sweat and lube and come that was rapidly trickling down his belly and drying. He shuffled awkwardly across the hall to the bathroom and opted for a hot shower to clean himself up- and if he spent a little longer beneath the warm spray of water, hands drifting back down to his cock as he pictured the kind of fun he and Negan could have in the shower together now that they were together…well, nobody else would be the wiser.

* * *

Rick was deep into a binge of crime documentaries and on his second cup of instant noodles when he heard the key in the front door. It was well past midnight, and Carol, responsible student that she was, had said goodnight to Rick a half hour ago, calling it quits on their texting. Normally, Rick would have called it a night then, too, but he found himself too invested in an episode about D. B. Cooper to turn the tv off.

He paused it now with ten minutes to spare, poking his head out of his room to see Negan creeping in the front door. “You tryin’ to be quiet or somethin’? I appreciate the thought, but I could hear you stompin’ down the hall.” Rick grinned at the way Negan jumped at his voice, head practically knocking the ceiling.

“Shit!” The boy set his bag down gently at his feet, clutching at his chest. “Goddamn, you just about made me shit my pants and have a heart attack at the same fucking time. That’s not a sexy way to go, Rick. I would’ve come back to haunt your ass.”

“Just my ass?” Rick smirked.

“I can think of a couple other parts, too,” Negan laughed. “I was tryin’ to be quiet, though. Heard that some people like gettin’ more than three hours of sleep during the week? Sounds like bullshit to me, but I thought I’d be considerate.” He tiptoed over and kissed Rick on the lips, making a pleased little noise when Rick pressed up into it and ran his fingers over the supple black leather over his chest. “Mm, Rick. You sure know how to make a man feel welcome.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “I was just finishing something up…do you wanna come to bed? With me?” He hadn’t had to ask before- Negan had always just inserted himself into Rick’s bed over the last couple weeks. A swoop of disappointment touched him when he saw the torn look on Negan’s face.

“I…I mean- it’s not that I don’t want to!” he began, “I just, uh…I need a night to myself. If you know what I mean.” He dropped a wink in Rick’s direction, but he looked oddly fidgety. Rick chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Sure thing. Goodnigh-”

Rick froze suddenly, his whole body going rigid as he caught a glimpse of Negan’s oversized duffle bag with his camera equipment in it… _moving_. Negan had also gone stiff, not meeting Rick’s eyes when he looked up at him searchingly.

“Negan? What the hell-”

“It’s nothing! It’s uh- probably just my gear…shifting around…” The excuse was as lame as a duck, and Rick shot him a sassy look.

It was as if whatever was inside had heard the lie and wanted to make its presence known- suddenly there was a strange sound like that of an animal, along with some scratching, and Rick and Negan both raced for the bag.

“Wait, wait, hold the fuck up…!”

“Negan, what the _hell_ did you bring home-?”

And then, from a small purposeful-looking gap in the zipper, a long orange paw flashed out, searching for an out. Rick’s mouth fell open, and he unzipped the bag the rest of the way, letting loose a ginger-colored tabby cat that immediately shot out of the bag and skittered across the floor to retreat underneath the couch. Rick blinked rapidly, trying to process why the hell there would be a cat in Negan’s bag.

“I can explain.” Rick cocked his head up at the taller boy, urging him to go on. “Well, uh- you see, this park that Simon and I were at…well, I kept hearing this fucking sound when we were shooting, right? Loud as hell, a little ways off, and it wouldn't fucking stop, so we ended up following it after a while to see what the hell it was.” Negan gestured to the kitten. “And it was _that_ little fucker. Fuckin’ idiot had gotten itself stuck halfway up a tree.”

“Did you just call a cat an idiot?”

“Yes! Because, _believe me_ , baby, that cat _is_ an idiot. You gotta hear the whole story.”

“Fine,” Rick sighed, "go on."

“So Simon and I are standing there, dicks in our hands like ‘what the fuck do we do?’, and I, being the fuckin’ Superman that I am, decided to rescue the little guy.” Negan puffed up his chest proudly. “You should’ve seen me. I was like George of the fucking Jungle. If George of the Jungle got ten feet up, watched that goddamned cat climb even higher, panicked, missed a branch, and fell on his ass in the dirt.”

Laughter burst out of Rick, tears of mirth forming in the corners of his eyes as Negan glared halfheartedly. “Aw, fuck you, Rick! That shit hurt! I’m lucky I didn’t break my arm.”

Rick wiped at his tears, biting his tongue to stifle the giggles. “Sorry. Sorry, baby. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Hurt my pride more than anything.”

“You’re not much of a climber,” Rick noted sagely, remembering their antics the tight at the frat house. 

“That’s not the point of this story! The point is that I was a damned _hero_.”

“Sure,” Rick grinned, “so how’d you get the cat down?”

Negan scowled. “Simon whipped out some beef jerky and that little jerk came runnin’ down like someone lit a fire under her furry ass.”

Rick snorted, leaning in to kiss Negan’s stubbly cheek. “So why are you the one bringin’ a cat home?”

“Because Simon’s roommate’s allergic to fuckin’ everything under the goddamned sun. And also…I really like cats,” Negan added sheepishly. “Simon may have gotten her down, but she likes me better. Followed me around the rest of the night, crawled right in my bag when I was tryin’ to leave…she chose me. I’m her momma now, Rick.”

Rick cast a worried glance over at the kitten, who had ventured out from her hiding place to pad around their tiny living room, inspecting the couch and tv set. “I don’t know about this, Negan…if the RA finds out we’re hiding a cat in here, he’s gonna be pissed. And what if she’s got like…rabies or something?”

“I don’t think she’s got rabies. She doesn’t act like she’s got rabies.”

“What if she starts clawing up the furniture?”

“Already got it covered!” Negan exclaimed, diving into his bag and pulling out a small plastic package. “I made Simon watch her while I ran in the store on the way home. Got her some of those kitty claw covers. Plus some food and a couple little squeaky mice. I’d have gotten a litter box, but I didn’t have a way to get all that home tonight. I figured I’d lay out some papers in the bathroom and have her stay in there until I get everything else.”

“Negan…”

“I hear you, Rick! I do. Kitten in the dorm, probably a bad idea…but c’mon…look, she already likes you!” Rick glanced to the side to see the kitten sniffing at his shirt, purring as she rubbed her furry face against his knee and crawled into his lap, rolling onto her back and stretching out her paws. _Fuck_ , Rick thought, feeling his reservations wash away in the face of something so cute. He looked up at Negan to see an equally cute face pleading with big brown puppy-dog eyes.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, fighting a groan. “She’s skinny. Probably a stray. You’re gonna have to train her to use a litterbox. And you need to take her to the vet tomorrow, make sure she’s not gonna give us all kinds of diseases. And check her for a microchip, in case she does actually belong to someone.”

“Rick, you’re the fucking _best_!” Negan grabbed his face and planted a wet, sloppy smooches all over, from chin to nose to forehead, until Rick had dissolved into bubbly laughter, swatting him away.

“The things you talk me into,” he muttered.


	12. Blame It All On Human Nature

Rick wrenched the bathroom door open to glare down at the loudmouthed little demon winding her way around his ankles.

“This is the fourth time you’ve woken me up,” he griped, sinking to the floor to allow himself to be used as a feline jungle gym. “I don’t know what you want. You’ve got food. Got toys. Got…yep, you definitely haven’t been shy about shitting in here.” He rubbed his tired eyes beneath his glasses, reaching down to pet the furry creature between the ears. “You’re a menace already. You’re definitely Negan’s cat, too- won’t shut the hell up.” He chuckled as the cat reached up, pawing at his bare chest- thankfully with sheathed claws- before curling up atop his crotch. “Yeah,” he muttered fondly, “you definitely take after your momma.”

With the kitten scooped in his arms like a baby, he padded back into his bedroom, where Negan was soundly asleep and drooling slightly onto his pillow. _He would be a deep sleeper_ , Rick thought, _don’t see him waking up four times because of all the meowing going on._

“Negan.” Rick nudged the other boy with the hand not holding the cat. “ _Negan_.”

“ _Mmph_.”

Rick rolled his eyes, plopped the kitten on top of Negan’s prone form and sat heavily down on the bed, making it bounce. “I _know_ you heard me, asshole.”

The kitten began kneading at Negan’s back through the blankets, and Negan stirred, cracking one eye. “ _Wha’s goin’ on?_ ”

Rick pointed to Negan’s happily purring personal massager. “She’s woken me up for times yowlin’ at the bathroom door. I don’t know what she wants.”

“She seems happy now,” Negan pointed out. And she did- she had settled down considerably and was contentedly nestling in like she belonged there.

“We can’t let her walk around the dorm."

“Why not? She’s not gonna go anywhere.”

“Yeah, but she may _go_ somewhere,” Rick said pointedly. “She already took a shit in the shower.”

Negan shook with laughter. “Well, _shit_. Guess she missed all the fuckin’ syllabuses and school newspapers I laid out for her to take a dump on.”

Rick snorted. “Guess so.”

“What time’s it, baby?”

Rick's eyes flicked over to the glow of the clock. “Little past eight.”

Negan swore profusely into the pillow. “Fuck. Shit. This little hellion’s already makin’ my Sunday a rough one. Fucking fuck.”

“Kids are hard work,” Rick noted wisely, grinning at Negan’s death glare. “C’mon, get up. I bet by the time we get the bathroom cleaned up the pet store and the vet will be open.”

“ _Riiick_ , it’s only eight-”

“The early bird gets the worm.”

“Fuck the worm, I just want to go back to my fuckin’ dream,” Negan complained, rolling over onto his back and holding onto the kitten in the process so that she didn’t get lost amid the covers. Rick swallowed hard, eyeing the prominent bulge tenting the blanket covering Negan’s waist.

“What, uh- what were you dreamin’ about?” _Fuck_ , he could already _feel_ the warmth crawling across his face. _Why can’t I flirt without looking like an idiot just this once,_ he wondered.

The sly expression on Negan’s face told Rick all he needed to know. “Well, _you_ were there for starters, blue eyes. You want me to keep goin’?”

 _Yes_ , Rick desperately wanted to say, _please, please tell me what you do with me in your dreams when I’m not shy and tongue-tied and awkward._

“We- we, uh. Need to clean up the bathroom and take care of the cat issue. I can go get litter if you take her to the vet,” he said instead, disappointing even himself.

Negan nodded without missing a beat, rolling out of bed with the cat in his arms. “Got it! I’ll clean up the bathroom, babe. Sorry she woke you up. You should kick me outta bed next time and make me deal with her. I’m just a deep sleeper- slept through a fuckin’ tree fallin’ on a car outside once. My mom used to say she worried I was a fucking vampire for how hard it was to wake me up in the morning.”

Rick laughed weakly, fighting to keep his eyes above the belt as they padded into the kitchen together, hip to hip. “That right?”

“Yep. My nickname in high school was Dracula, but that was probably just because I sucked so much dick.”

Rick threw his head back and groaned with laughter. “You’re such a fucking liar."

“You’re right. I already told you I didn’t come out ‘til college. Hey, _hey!_ You’re not gonna try to make breakfast, are you?”

Rick shook the box of Toaster Strudel at Negan’s skeptical face. “I think I can handle this!”

“I dunno, Rick. There’s a fine line between burned and still cold inside…”

“I know how to work a damn toaster. Christ.”

“Hey, now, no need to take the good Lord’s name in vain, darlin’.”

Rick popped the pastries in the toaster and flipped Negan off. “Go clean up after your devil cat, you prick.”

* * *

They munched their _perfectly toasted_  Toaster Strudel while Rick drove Negan and the cat to the vet.

“So this poses an interesting question,” Negan noted, brandishing his  breakfast in Rick’s direction.

“Please don’t drip frosting all over my car.”

“Funny enough, my question about the frosting!” If Rick hadn’t been focused on driving, he would have stared because _what the hell did that mean?_ “So I already know you haven’t been with anyone but your high school boo-”

Rick stiffened. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“Shit- sorry. I wasn’t making fun. It really is okay, I just like seein’ you blush at the word _boo_.” Negan sounded sincere, so Rick unclenched. “Anyway. So you may not know what all you like. And that’s fine. But I just wanna let you know up front that I’m clean. Got my fuckin’ pedigree and everything, no rabies, no nothin’. I'm careful where I stick it, no matter what you may think otherwise.”

Which was a relief, but...“What the hell does this have to do with breakfast?” Rick wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Well, it gives us some options. So here’s the question- when I fuck you, do you wanna be a Twinkie or a Toaster Strudel?”

Rick blinked rapidly, trying to process what he’d just been asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the veterinary clinic. “ _What?_ ”

Negan was grinning at him lewdly, lips pulled back in the filthiest grin Rick had ever seen on the boy’s face- which was truly saying something. “That’s what the whole frosting thing made me think about.”

Rick felt his face burning. “I- I already told you that…that I wanted you to be the one to, um…the first time, at least...”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“The what the fuck-”

“Think about where the frosting goes, Rick.”

The moment it clicked, Rick felt like he was about to melt into a puddle of red-faced, embarrassed goo right there in his seat. “Get the hell outta my car, you fuckin’ pervert!” He yelped, half-laughing and half-shouting. Negan unstrapped and scooped up the kitten in his lap, unbothered by Rick’s playful shoves toward the door.

“So which is it-?”

“Get out! Jesus Christ, you really can’t be appropriate for one goddamn minute, can you? I’ll pick you up once I get the kitty litter!”

“I really don’t have a preference, we can try it both ways and see which one you like-”

“Bye!” Rick floored it out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires that he didn’t think his car was capable of and his face so red it looked like he was sunburned.

* * *

“No microchip, no rabies! The vet told me she’s nice and healthy, just a little malnourished, but I told him we’d take care of that. He helped me put on her claw covers- that was a fucking _ordeal_ , let me tell you. Oh, and he gave me some free cat treats!” Negan shook a bag of fish-shaped treats that strangely claimed to be chicken flavored, which Rick felt was a bit of a missed opportunity. “You get litter?”

“And a box, and a collar.” He pointed to the bags in the back as they drove, the kitten crawling from Negan’s lap to Rick’s own. “That can’t be safe.”

“She’s like four pounds, what’s she gonna do? Honk the horn?”

“Maybe,” Rick smiled. “I was thinking that we may need to get her a cage at some point, just in case she doesn’t take to the litter box.”

“I’ll get her whipped into shape, baby. You’ll see. I’ll be the fuckin’ cat whisperer.”

“I would love to see that. You gonna get down on all fours and try to communicate with her?”

He realized he’d made a mistake a second too late, cringing as he glimpsed Negan’s shit eating grin in his peripheral vision.

“I’d get on all fours any-fucking-time you want me to, Rick. I mean, I think I’d probably prefer to see your pretty face the first time, but I’m not gonna say no if you want me from behind.”

Rick groaned, the sound amused and strained all at once. He didn’t remember Negan’s overt Negan-ness getting under his skin in this particular way before. It had annoyed him, made him roll his eyes, but now, as stupid as it was, he could feel heat stirring in him at the onslaught of images that Negan’s flirting elicited. He bit down on his tongue, scratching the kitten between her velvety ears. “Don’t talk like that in front of our daughter, Negan.”

“Daddy’s got a filthy mouth, what can I say?” Negan smirked, propping his hands behind his head.

“ _Daddy?_ Just yesterday you said you were momma.”

“I can’t be both, Rick?”

“Not if she’s _both_ our daughter!” Rick laughed. “Pick one.”

“I’m daddy.”

Rick snorted. “Of course you are.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“I think I’ve got it.”

“You’re daddy too, though. We’re a fucking modern-ass family. Two dads and a cat.”

“A cat without a name,” Rick noted as they parked and began lugging their cat supplies up to the dorm. “You oughta give her one. You found her, after all.”

Negan seemed to ponder that on the way up the stairs. When they got up, Rick set to work putting up the litterbox while Negan outfitted the kitten with her new collar.

“Aw, this is cute as shit, Rick! Little moons and stars.”

Rick shrugged, blushing. “You found her at night.”

Negan’s whole face lit up, and he scooted across the bathroom floor to rain kisses down on Rick’s face. “Cute as _shit_ ,” he grinned before turning back to the kitten. Her newly covered claws tapped against the linoleum. “She’s the same color as this guy in my bio class, Abraham. But I don’t wanna name her that, she’s too cute. This guy’s a big ‘ol sumbitch. I made some offhand comment about his buddy’s mullet and I thought he was gonna knock my ass straight through to next Tuesday. All I said was that if the guy was gonna have a mullet, he may as well lean into it and blast some Billy Ray Cyrus.”

Rick shoved Negan’s shoulder. “You’re an ass. Think of a _good_ name.”

“Uh…Orange. Orange-y.”

“Are you three?”

“I’ve been accused of being roughly that age, maturity-wise,” Negan offered.

“A _good_ name, Negan.” Rick shoved to his feet, thoroughly washing the litter off his hands. “Think about it while you’re makin’ me lunch.”

“You’re fucking bossy today, baby,” Negan cooed, trotting after Rick into the kitchen and rifling through the cabinets. The kitten leaped onto the counter with ease, nosing around the array of cereal boxes. “Lucky for you, I love havin’ hot boys telling me what to do. Gets me all hot under the fuckin’ collar.” He pulled out a box of Kraft from a cabinet and held it up for Rick’s approval. “Mac n’ cheese sound good?” Rick nodded, fetching a pot. “I feel like I’m eatin’ this shit every other day. I miss real mac and cheese, you know? With actual cheddar, not this powdered fuckery.”

“God, me too,” Rick practically moaned at the thought, boosting himself up on the counter while Negan waited on the water to boil. “Can you make mac and cheese? The good kind?”

“Right _now_?” Negan asked, indicating their near-empty fridge.

“No, I mean if we had the ingredients. Could you?”

“Fuck yeah I could! My mom’s got a badass mac and cheese recipe. Got like six kinds of cheese in there. Whenever she makes it, there’s leftovers for a week.”

“Can you make it for me sometime?” Rick asked, stretching a leg out to hook Negan's hip and pull him closer. The boy willingly came, wrapping arms around Rick’s waistand planting a kiss on the center of his chest.

“Sure I can, darlin’. You just tell me when, alright? It’ll be a helluva lot of food for just the two of us, but I don’t mind.”

“We could have people over. I’ve got friends on campus. You could ask some people to come. We could…watch movies or something. Or drink?” Suddenly, it seemed like a terrible idea- he had no idea what to do to entertain Negan's friends. “I…I don’t know. It can just be us.”

Negan squeezed his hips. “No, that sounds great, baby! I mean it. Simon’ll be down for whatever gets food in his belly. I can ask a couple people and we’ll have a movie night.” He kissed Rick’s jaw, soothing the anxious flutter in his belly. “Now toss me that fake cheese.”

They were sitting cross-legged on the floor eating their lunch from lime green plastic bowls that Negan had pilfered from his mom’s house, knocking a toy mouse back and forth while their kitten tried to catch it when Negan spoke.

“Noodle!”

Rick quirked an eyebrow and threw the mouse at Negan’s chest. “That is what we’re eatin’, yeah.”

“No, I mean for her name! We could call her Noodle!” Negan looked rather proud of himself, sitting there with the cat’s ineffective purple-tipped claws batting at his chest and cheese sauce on his upper lip, and Rick couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Noodle's a good name.”

* * *

“You know,” Negan murmured into Rick’s hair after they’d set Noodle up in the bathroom for the night and curled up in bed together- in Negan’s room tonight. “You never answered my question this morning.”

Rick’s face flamed, and he buried it into Negan’s chest, breathing in the warm scent of the taller boy’s cologne still clinging to his skin. “Yeah. ‘Cause it was a stupid question.”

“Nuh-uh,” Negan retorted. His fingers ran up and down Rick’s back, scratching lightly and making goosebumps prickle over his neck and arms. “It’s important to know.”

“I’ll leave it up to the heat of the moment. You said you’re clean, so…” Rick shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, like he’d had a hundred other casual discussions about the ins and outs of his sex life before. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Mm,” Negan slid his fingertips beneath the waistband of Rick’s sweats, playing with the elastic on his briefs. Even the light touches to the skin there made Rick feel warm, made him want to press closer. “I’d like to come inside you,” he stated, so simply, like his words didn’t have the power to make Rick’s cock perk up with interest. Rick squirmed, and Negan’s fingers dipped lower.

“Yeah?” he managed.

“Yeah.” Negan rolled onto his side, lavishing attention onto Rick’s throat with tongue and teeth, his hands still wandering down, down, down, until he had one knee hooked and pulled it up over his hip. “Want to do a whole fucking lot to you,” he murmured, finding Rick’s mouth and capturing it in a slow kiss that made them both sigh against each other’s wet lips. “C’mere, baby.”

Rick came to him easily, wriggling until he was half-atop Negan, bare chest to bare chest, one of the boy’s legs between his own as they kissed. He liked kissing Negan- he knew what he was doing, was so responsive, so eager to follow Rick’s own movements and mirror them to test out what Rick liked and what he didn’t. He liked how Negan’s hands roamed all down his back, from his hair to his waist to his ass, always gentle, always exploring.

“What- what do you wanna do to me?” Rick breathed out, his lips kissing from Negan’s jaw to his neck. He felt the strangest impulse to mark him, latch onto the tanned skin and suck until it bloomed red and bruised. He could feel Negan grinning against his cheek.

“Wanna make you feel good,” was Negan’s answer, and it surprised Rick a little. “Can I?”

Rick was hard- he could feel it pressing up against Negan’s thigh, and he knew Negan could feel it, too. He was hard, and he felt good, felt wanted and warm in Negan’s arms, and he very, very much wanted Negan to make him feel even better.

“How?” he asked, and for once his voice didn’t sound weak. He licked a stripe up Negan’s throat, sucked tentatively at the fragile skin there, testing the waters.

“ _Ooh_ , Rick, yeah, keep goin’, honey,” Negan groaned, rocking up against him, tipping his head back and baring his throat more, making a pleased noise when Rick met him with teeth and tongue. “I want to give you what you want. Want this to- ooh, _fuck!_ \- to be good for you. Anything you want, baby. You want me to suck you? Jerk you off? Finger you? Fuck you?” Rick popped off of Negan’s neck, gazing down into those mischievous hazel eyes that were so deep and rich with the lust between them. “Anything you fuckin’ want, baby. You just gotta ask.”

Rick dipped his head, kissing Negan again and again, rocking down against him and feeling the boy’s hands drop down to squeeze his ass. Rick arched into him, head fuzzy. “More. _Please_ , more.”

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Negan joked, using his grip on Rick’s ass to rock their groins together. When Rick caught onto his rhythm, he released him hold to slide his hands down the back of Rick’s sweats, fingers skimming the crease of Rick’s ass through his briefs. “You ever use that lube I gave you?”

“Ye-yeah,” Rick answered, still awash in the roll and clash of their hips.

“ _Mm_. Did you like it?” Warm hands found Rick’s bare skin, finally, and Rick couldn’t help the sweet noise that rose from his throat as Negan touched him, fingertips going as low as his thighs.

“Mm-hm,” Rick nodded, “I did. Bet it would feel better if you did it, though.”

Negan’s breath caught in his throat, always the look of surprise when Rick had a fit of boldness. “Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?” As if to test the water, he spread Rick with one hand while one finger rubbed gently over his sensitive opening, making Rick’s whole body shutter and flush beneath the intimate touch. He nodded fervently, forehead to Negan’s collarbone.

His reply of, “yes, yes, _please_ , baby, I want it,” was met with Negan leaning up to kiss the tip of his nose as he pulled his hands away just long enough to retrieve a bottle of lube from a drawer beside the bed. Laughter bubbled up in Rick’s chest as Negan gripped the hem of his sweats. “You sure keep a lot of lube.”

“I want to be prepared,” Negan said ever so seriously with a gleam in his eye. “In case any cute boys with fuckable asses end up grinding on me in my bed.” He gave Rick’s pants a tug. “Can I take these off?”

Rick was squirming out of them before he could manage to find his voice to say yes, helping Negan slide them down to mid-thigh along with his briefs. Negan glanced down his body once he was bare from the waist down, licking his lips. “Knew you had a cute ass.”

Rick laughed helplessly against the boy’s shoulder, the sound becoming a groan when Negan spread him again and slid slick fingers over his opening, circling and putting light pressure there to tease him. “Negan, _please_ ,” he groaned, grasping for something- Negan’s hair or shirt or bedsheets- to grab onto.

“Rick, you don’t gotta beg me.” Negan slid one finger inside slowly and Rick felt every inch of it, toes curling and breath leaving him in a warm gust. Negan’s finger was longer than his own, rubbing him just right as he pumped it in and out. Rick writhed into the overwhelming feeling of being touched, his hips lifting and pushing back as Negan worked him. A hand caught his chin and tipped it up so that he was looking Negan in the eye, both their lips parted in awe and admiration as Negan pushed a second slippery finger inside and Rick moaned, knuckles going white as he gripped the boy’s shirt. “Look so fucking gorgeous, baby. So fucking beautiful. Can’t tell you how many times I thought about doing this to you.” Negan’s dirty talk was as warm and rich as velvet against Rick’s flushed skin, making his cock twitch and leak where he was rutting against Negan’s hip. “Sit up a minute, gorgeous. Let me see you.”

With Negan’s free hand on his hip guiding him, Rick sat up, feeling self-conscious with his pants bunched up around his knees and his dick flushed a wild red and jutting thick and needy from between his legs. Negan kept moving his fingers, sometimes spreading them so that Rick could imagine the stretch of something bigger inside him, sometimes pumping them in deep and making Rick lose his breath, sometimes curling them _just right_ so that they rubbed over that sweet spot that made Rick feel delirious with pleasure. Negan smiled up at him, rubbing over warm, reddened skin lovingly. “So fuckin’ _pretty_. I don’t know what part I like the most.” Rick blushed at the praise, and Negan’s dimples deepened as he reached for Rick’s face, fingers on his lips. “That fucking _mouth_ , baby, god _damn_. I can tell just from kissin’ you you’re gonna be real good at some other shit with those lips, too.”

“Shut- _ooh, Negan_ \- shut the fuck up,” Rick laughed as he rode the boy’s fingers, feeling deliciously full.

“I mean it. And your chest…fuck, everything about you, Rick.” He tweaked one rosy nipple and then the other, white teeth flashing against his lip. “You’re fucking sexy, baby. And _this_ -” Rick whimpered when Negan’s hand wrapped around his length, giving it a skillful stroke, thumb spreading the wetness down the underside and rubbing circles just beneath the blushing head. “This is so goddamn pretty. You _would_ have a pretty cock. Fuck. I still wanna give you that blowjob.” He rubbed more insistently against Rick’s prostate as he pumped his hand, and Rick felt his whole body tighten and strain, the need to come nipping at his heels.

“Y-yeah?” was all he could manage while he bucked into Negan’s eager hand and down onto his slick fingers.

Negan shot him a wanting smile. “Yeah. Wanna fuckin’ get on my knees and suck your gorgeous fucking dick. Wanna hear what you sound like when you come in my mouth.”

“Oh, god, _Negan_ -” Rick panted, hips stuttering. “I’m-”

“You gonna come, baby?”

Rick nodded frantically, head falling forward and damp curls falling into his face. “Yes, yes, I’m gonna- _fuck, I’m gonna come, Negan-!_ ” He cried out the boy’s name, chanting it over and over like a prayer as his orgasm washed over him in thick rolls of pleasure. He wasn’t sure what he was clinging to, what was holding him up, until after when he nearly collapsed forward onto Negan’s chest and the boy’s strong arms caught him.

“Whoa, boy. You’re gonna get real fucking messy if you lay on me right now.” Rick glanced down to see the ribbons of white decorating Negan’s stomach and flushed scarlet.

“Shit, I- I’m sorry…” his whole head still felt fuzzy, and he shook his head like that would help clear away the warm fog he was awash in. Negan chuckled and laid him on his back, pressed a kiss to the center of his bare chest.

“It’s nothin’, Rick. I’m fucking honored to wear your jizz stains.” His eyes roamed over Rick’s bare body. “You look good like this. Naked and blushing and tangled up in my sheets. It’s a real Kodak moment.”

Rick’s eyes blew wide. “Hell no.”

Negan shot him pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Aw, please? It’ll just be for me.”

“No fucking way!” Rick laughed, reaching down to pull his underwear back up. It was too warm now for sweats, and Negan was down to his boxers- and sporting a prominent erection that snagged on something in Rick’s mind, made him unravel a little. “Not naked,” he amended, and Negan’s whole face lit up like a string of Christmas lights.

“Holy shit, _really?_ ” He practically leapt on his camera, holding it up. “You sure, Rick? I don’t wanna- if you’re not comfortable, you don’t ever have to-”

Rick nodded earnestly. “I know. I don’t mind. Go ahead.”

Negan did, taking a quick candid-as-possible shot before Rick knew what was happening, and then the boy was back in bed and beside him, kissing him slow and sweet. “You’re the fucking _best_ , Rick.”

Emboldened by his orgasm and Negan’s constant praise, Rick reached down and cupped the bulge in Negan’s boxers, reveling in the groan that the touch brought out of Negan. “If I’m the best now, what’ll I be after I get you off?” he teased through his nerves. He swallowed them back, instead concentrating on Negan’s face, the minute shifts in his expression when he rubbed over the head, dropped lower to cup his balls, when he reached inside and got his hand properly around him.

“Ooh, Rick. You’ll- You’ll be the fuckin’- the best, the greatest- _oh, shit, yes_ , just like that! Right there!” Negan babbled, arching into Rick’s fist. “Mm, baby. That’s…ooh, that’s real good. That how you like to be touched?” Rick rolled his eyes. _How the hell can he talk so much while getting off?_ _He must like that_ , Rick thought. _Of course he does._ Rick reached around Negan’s back, fumbling for a moment with the lube before squeezing some into his hand and then sliding it back into Negan’s underwear. The warm, slick touch was met with a wrenching moan from Negan. “ _Fuck_ , baby! Oh, god, that’s- that’s so fucking _good_ , Rick…”

Rick found that he liked getting Negan off- liked how the boy reached up to tangle his fingers in his hair, how his face went pink and scrunched up when he got close, how his cock throbbed under his palm. “Can’t wait to get this inside me,” Rick whispered, and he heard Negan gasp. “Wanna know how it feels to have you fuck me. _God_ , I want you to fuck me.” He moved his hand faster over the velvety flesh, and Negan fell back against the pillows with a deep moan. Rick tugged his boxers down, flushing and licking his lips at the sight of Negan’s hard cock sliding in and out of his fist. Within a few more pumps of his hand, Negan was arching off the bed and coming hard over his chest and Rick’s fist, stuttering out something that sounded like it was meant to be Rick’s name.

“Ho- _ly_ shit,” Negan choked out after when he and Rick were curled around each other, spent and sticky with sweat and lube and the come that Rick had missed while wiping them up with his long-discarded sweatpants. “Well, you give a damn fine handjob, Rick. You can cross _that_ off your list of things to worry about. I haven’t come that fuckin’ hard in _ages_. Probably because I was still thinking about how hot you looked coming on my fingers.”

Rick hid his smile in the crook of Negan’s neck, kissing the salty skin there. “I’m glad.”

“How are you feelin’, baby? You alright?” And then, because god forbid Negan get through a sentence without being irreverent, “I know, big moment, right? Seeing my giant fucking dick for the first time-” Rick nipped sharply at Negan’s neck and the boy yelp-laughed, pushing Rick’s face away from his throat. “Ow, fuck!”

“You gotta learn when to stop talkin',” Rick muttered happily. He manhandled Negan’s arm back around himself, pressing in close. Negan pecked him on the nose twice, then three more times like he couldn’t help himself, and Rick felt warmth flutter in his chest. “Yeah,” he answered, “I’m good. Real good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is too fluffy. Anyone else feel like there's too much fluff here? Is there such a thing? lmao thank you to everyone reading and reviewing this, I swear there will be actual substance to this fic, there's just so many cute college-y things I want them to do together and this is probably the only college au like this I'll write.


	13. A Little Bit Closer

The sound of Carol slapping a something down at his table made Rick jerk into wakefulness, having been steadily heading toward an easy doze atop his notes on the Bauhaus that were scattered around the napping-slash-studying area he'd taken over on the top floor of the library.

“You need to sign up for this,” she said in her well-meaning but commanding way as she pulled out a chair beside him. Rick blinked a few times, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. He’d overslept that morning, having stayed up well into the night jumping back and forth between studying and prepping for midterm critiques. He'd had to take a step back from painting due to the growing cramp in his hand and Negan's concern that he was going to kill every brain cell in his head inhaling oil paint and mineral spirit fumes all night. It was after Noodle had scattered his notes across the living room for the third time that Rick had taken off in search of fresh coffee that hadn't been sitting at the bottom of the pot for eighteen hours and a change of scenery. 

“What is this?” he asked groggily, scanning the hot pink flyer Carol had covered his notes with. “Undergraduate art show…submit up to three pieces or one series of works by October fifteenth…” he glanced up at Carol, who seemed to be awaiting some confirmation that he would, indeed, be signing up for this. “Are you doin’ this?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I’ve got up to three pieces of art. It’s free to enter, and if I end up getting in, that’d be cool as hell.”

Rick frowned. “I’ve never thought about trying to get into something like this. I mean…I _have_ , but I thought it would be down the road, when I’ve figured out what I’m doing. I mean…the people that are always talkin’ about being in these shows are the ones that seem like they’ve got their whole _thing_ figured out, you know?”

Carol scoffed. “ _Nobody_ knows what they’re doing, sunshine. That’s why they’re here. If you hear some douchey art boy telling you that he’s got his shit all figured out because he thinks he’s the white Basquiat and he once let a professor bum a shitty menthol off of him, he’s the biggest goddamned liar on the planet. Now are you gonna submit your work on your own, or am I gonna have to break into your dorm and steal it?”

An art show. At the school gallery, sure, but it was a show nonetheless. “Yeah,” Rick said, with more confidence than he felt. “Yeah, I will.”

“Good,” Carol nodded. “Glad it didn’t have to come down to breaking and entering. I’ll leave that to you and your boyfriend.”

Rick felt his face get hot. “He’s…Negan’s not…” Carol’s pierced eyebrow was halfway up her forehead. “I just mean that we’ve never used that…word,” Rick finished lamely.

The look on Carol’s face said _you’re an idiot_. “You’re an idiot, Grimes,” she said with a dramatic roll of her kohl-rimmed eyes. She glanced down at her phone, wincing. “Shit. I’ve got my chem exam in seven minutes. I’ll talk to you later! I still wanna meet this illegal kitten you two have. I’m pretty fucking offended that you haven’t invited me over yet.”

“Oh!” Rick called at her retreating back, “That reminds me- but I’ll just text you.” He fired off a quick message before he forgot- _Wanna come over this Saturday? Negan wants to make dinner. Just a few people. Maggie’s coming._

He got a text back moments later: _He better not be making fucking ramen I swear to god._

* * *

The deadline for submitting artwork was weeks away, but Rick was already agonizing over what to choose from. As soon as he’d gotten back to his room, he’d pulled out every painting he had stashed in his dorm and set them up on all available surfaces in his room, propping them up on the bed and against his dresser. Each time he passed over one, it seemed to look worse than he remembered- sloppy blending here, wonky anatomy there, too flat, too amateur, too fucking-

“Hey, Rick! You want ramen? I made the good kind, none of that fake shrimp shit, I swear.” Negan poked his head in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers when he saw the disarray that had become Rick’s room. “Oh. Holy shit. Whatcha doin’, blue eyes?” Negan hovered in the doorway, two bowls of ramen in hand.

Rick sighed and waved him in, and the boy eagerly bounded over to the bed like an eager puppy, kicking the door shut behind him to keep Noodle out and away from the paintings. He offered Rick a bowl, eyes bouncing around the room like he was trying to take everything in as quickly as possible.

“I’ve never really seen any of your art before,” Negan murmured in between noodle slurps. “Not the finished stuff, anyway. Just your sketches and when I’d come in while you were working in here.”

Rick sat next to him on the bed, deciding a ramen break was in order. “I’m tryin’ to decide which two to submit to this art show at the end of the semester,” he explained, waving a hand at the mess. "Deadline to submit's in a few weeks."

“You’re doing the undergrad show?” Negan beamed, “fuckin’ A, me too! I’m gonna submit my rainbow boys as soon as I find a blue one.” Rick watched as the boy plopped down on the floor in the middle of the room, long legs crossed beneath him. He looked funny there, with ramen hanging from his mouth, wearing only line green boxers a hoodie that read _I've been known to flash people_  with a picture of a camera beneath.

“I…yeah. Carol just about harassed me into it.”

“Good woman.”

“I just keep seein’ all the mistakes, you know? I don’t know which ones have the best shot of getting accepted. The more I look, the less I like them.”

Negan slurped the last of his noodles and set his bowl aside. “Good thing you’ve got a fresh pair of eyes now, Rick. I can help, if you want. Give you my _professional_ opinion.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Would you?” he found that he honestly wanted Negan’s opinion on his work now that the boy was here. “Be honest with me- I really want to know which ones you think are the best.”

It was rare that Negan was ever quiet for longer than thirty seconds, so when a solid five minutes passed with Negan scrutinizing his art and saying nothing- and Rick was watching the clock to be sure- he began to sweat.

“I mean- if you…if they all suck, I- I’d rather know now, you know, before I embarrass myself-”

“Rick,” Negan said quietly, “You’re cute as hell, but you need to learn when to shut up.”

Rick spluttered on his sriracha chicken. “You’re one to talk, you dick!”

“ _Rick_. I’m appreciating the fucking artwork, baby. Do you talk this much in a museum?”

“I’d bet my life savings that you talk in museums. Probably say everything looks like boobs or dicks.”

“Or vaginas, Rick. Jesus, how could you forget?” Negan winked at him from over his shoulder. “Fine. But I want to be respectful here, because I like you. You deserve it. And you’re clearly not gonna give yourself a fair assessment, so someone’s got to.” He patted the floor beside himself. “Come down here with me, baby.”

Rick abandoned his dinner and sat next to Negan, feeling like he was immersed in water for all the blue surrounding him. Negan’s fingers laced through his on the floor.

“I like that one the best.” Negan pointed at a watercolor portrait from over the summer- a big blue-and-violet one that Rick had painted after breaking out of a week-long artless funk that had been brought on by his distress over Shane’s abandonment. It was when he'd first made peace with going back to school on his own and actually started feeling somewhat like himself again. “You look…conflicted. Sad, but hopeful. I like the purple. And the eyes. And your pretty fucking face.”

“Shut the hell up,” Rick grinned, leaning into Negan’s shoulder, an anchor in his self-made sea of blue. He studied Negan’s face as the boy gazed wonderingly around him, warmth spreading thick and sweet in his chest. _He really does like them_ , Rick realized. Negan talked a lot of shit, but one thing he rarely did was lie- not to spare people’s feelings, not to make himself look better. He meant what he said, and Rick could see how much he loved the paintings by the look in his eyes alone.

“You’ve gotta put one of the blue ones in too, though. That seems to be your fuckin’ thing, you know?” Negan nodded around them. “I feel like I’m underwater. It’s very _you_ , though, baby. The blue. I fuckin’ like it. It’s like I’m seeing all the stuff in your paintings reflected in those baby blues of yours.”

Rick snort-laughed so hard he ended up choking and spluttering on his own spit. “That was some real cheesy shit. You should write Hallmark cards.”

Childishly, Negan stuck his tongue out. “Oh, fuck you, Rick. I thought it was pretty goddamn poetic. If I’d said that so anyone less cynical than you, they’d be on bended knee before me right now, you dick.” In a flash, he was leaning in and licking a wet, siriracha- scented stripe across Rick’s face, laughing as the younger boy spluttered and wiped at his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Yeah, _I’m_ the dick,” Rick muttered, ducking his head before Negan could strike again. “I am glad you like them, though,” he added more shyly. “It means a lot.”

“Of course, baby. And there was a bonus to all this, too.” Rick cautiously gave him a questioning look, still on the alert for more Labrador-style kisses. Negan had that look- that fucking look of wicked mischief that made Rick’s belly knot with both anxiety and excitement. “I think I found my blue boy.”

Rick blinked rapidly, tying to process. _Negan wanted him to-_

“I mean, c’mon, Rick! I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, that photo was fuckin’ made for you! The last color I need, and you’re the embodiment of blue with your fuckin’ eyes and paintings…fuck, you even wear blue briefs! You wearin’ ‘em now, baby? Let me take a peek…” Negan laughed uproariously as Rick swatted him away, face ablaze. “Think of the possibilities! I can see it now, you looking hot as shit in nothin’ but those briefs. Ooh, Rick!” Negan exclaimed, eyes dancing, “You ever jello wrestled, baby? What I wouldn’t give to see you half-naked in a pool of blue jello-”

“No! What the hell, Negan, I’m not- I’m not a fucking model.” Rick laughed, face blazing warm at the thought of Negan snapping pictures of him like that. And then the thought of other people seeing it, of him being hung up half-naked on a wall…

“You’re hotter than a model,” Negan crooned, pulling him close and planting unfairly tingling kisses up Rick’s neck. “C’mon, baby. You’re _made_ to be blue. It was fuckin’ meant to be. It’ll hurt my pride a little not to be the hottest guy on the wall anymore-” Rick rolled his eyes, “-but it’d be worth it. I’ve wanted to get you in front of a camera since I first laid eyes on you, honey. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 _Damn you, you charming, sweet-talking bastard_ , Rick thought affectionately. There was so much giddiness in Negan’s voice, and he thought of the way Negan had come to life in an entirely new way when he’d showed Rick his photos. It made him want to be a part of that, but… “I don’t know,” he said, “I mean, I…I’m glad you like…how I look and stuff. But I don’t know about- about everyone else seeing me like that…”

“You don’t have to take your clothes off it you don’t want to,” Negan reassured him quickly. “You saw the other ones, they’re not all…like mine,” he laughed. “I can find you something sexy to wear that’s not too much. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything. And you don’t _have_ to, honey. If you’re not- if you don’t fucking want to, for _any_ reason, you can say no. If you don’t wanna tell me why, you don’t have to. You can just tell me no. I’ll find another model, it’s no trouble. He won’t be near pretty as you, but nobody fuckin’ is.” Negan kissed Rick’s cheek, sweet and chaste, and Rick melted.

“I want to,” Rick conceded, feeling Negan’s smile against his stubbly cheek. “I just…not too much, okay? Keep it a little tame?”

Negan nodded eagerly. “Not too much! Holy fucking _shit_ , I can’t believe you’re gonna let me do this, you’re gonna look so goddamn good people are gonna cream their fuckin’ pants right there in the gallery!” He gave Rick’s hips a warm squeeze, bouncing like an overeager puppy about to go on a walk. “I’ll have to plan it out a little- make it personal, you know? I want it to reflect _you_. Holy shit, I’m about to nut just thinkin’ about it.” His voice dropped a couple octaves as he leaned in closer, the velvety rumble low and insinuating and going straight to Rick’s cock. “And it’s like I said- you don’t have to take your clothes off. Not for the ones I’ll take for the series, anyway.” He grinned devilishly, and Rick felt the flames of it lick at his face and chest.

“Shut-shut the fuck up.”

* * *

“You better not be making ramen,” Carol called to Negan as she stepped past Rick into their dorm. “I’ve been living on that shit for three weeks.”

“I would _never_ invite a lady over and serve her ramen-fucking-noodles, Carol,” Negan replied with an armful of kitten that he had to shift to hold out his hand for her to shake. She eyed him strangely.

“You know that I know you, right?”

Negan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well- I mean, yeah. Kinda. But you mostly know me as the jackass that only draws boobs and butts during life drawing.”

“Do I need to know more than that?” Carol teased, reaching out and smiling faintly when Noodle bumped her furry face against her outstretched fingers.

“I’m a man of depth and sophistication, Carol my dear.” Negan gratefully let Carol take over babying Noodle, who had gotten clingy and overly playful as soon as she’d settled in. Rick was thankful for Negan’s foresight with the claw covers, because he was positive that their furniture would have been ripped to shreds without them.

“What’s on the menu, then?” she asked.

“Mac and Cheese, an American classic.” Negan caught Carol stifling a snort. “What? Got an issue with that?”

“Sounds pretty close to ramen.”

“That’s where you’re wrong! I’m makin’ it homestyle. Fancy cheese and curly noodles and breadcrumbs on top, the whole nine-fuckin-yards.” He slung and arm around Rick’s waist. “It was my boy’s idea.”

Carol looked amused at that. “Your _boy_ , huh?”

Negan nodded proudly. “Yep. Roped me the hottest piece of ass on campus. Ain’t I a lucky son of a bitch?”

Rick elbowed him in the ribs, biting back the pleased smile on his lips. “You talk too much. I’m sorry, Carol. I wish I could say you’d get used to it.”

“That’s hurtful baby,” Negan accused with a smile, “you’d better start pretendin’ you like me again when Simon gets here. I’ve been telling him that you’re madly in love with me, that you’re my muse and you’d follow me off the face of the earth like I’m the pied fuckin’ piper. I’m gonna look like a real ass if he finds out I lied.” A knock at the door saw all their eyes flicking behind Carol. “Speak of the fucking devil.”

Negan opened the door to see Glenn and Maggie standing with a boy that Rick didn’t recognize that he assumed was Simon. “The gang’s all here!” Negan announced, letting them inside. Maggie and Glenn immediately flocked to Carol and Noodle, cooing and petting her. _Spoiled thing_ , Rick thought, watching the kitten preen and purr at the attention, _she’s eating this right up_.

“Rick, this is Simon. Simon, Rick.” Negan’s eyes bounced back and forth between them. Simon was a tall, lanky guy with the most aggressive mustache Rick had ever seen. He greeted Rick with a friendly slap on the shoulder and a grin that ate up his whole face.

“Good to finally meet you, Rick!” he said, “About fucking time. You’re all this jackass can talk about these days. _Rick’s eyes_ this and _Rick’s ass_ that- I can see why, I guess- I don’t swing that way, but, you know, if I _did_ -” he nodded approvingly for a moment before slinging an arm around Rick’s neck and drawing him in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re out of his league,” he jerked a thumb at Negan’s pouting face. “But he’s my best friend, so I’ve gotta act like he’s a damn fine catch.” Rick laughed along with Simon at the indignant look on Negan’s face. “Don’t pout, Neegster! It’s all in good fun. I’m sure Ricky here knows that he’s too good for you, anyway. Slumming it, this one. That’s alright, though. Gonna get some mac and cheese out of it.”

“If we’re all done fawning over my cat and shitting on my life,” Negan sighed dramatically, “can we please go to the fucking store and get some food? I want to eat before midnight.”

“Fine, princess,” Simon ribbed, “but I’m not getting on that death machine of yours. You got a car, Rick? Good. Last time I was on that bike I was sure we were both gonna bite the big one in the Subway parking lot, and I am _not_ a man that looks good covered in mayo.”

* * *

“Again, I _really_ fucking think that Maggie should have sat in Glenn’s lap.”

“Hey, I told you that my leg’s still messed up from when I slipped in garlic butter during dinner rush! Besides, you two look pretty cozy.”

Rick couldn’t even stifle his laughter. He had to agree with Glenn- Simon looked pretty comfortable in Negan’s lap, despite his head hitting the ceiling of Rick’s car every time they went over a pothole. They two of them were the tallest in the car, all legs and arms and elbows digging into the amused couple sitting on either side of them in the backseat while Carol rode shotgun. Only Negan, who was squirming nonstop to keep his legs from falling asleep beneath his friend’s weight, looked unhappy about their seating arrangement. “Never thought the day would come that I’d curse garlic butter,” he muttered as they pulled into the lot of the grocery store. “Oh, thank Jesus. Get the hell out of here, assholes! I need some space and some fresh air that doesn’t smell like chocolate Axe body spray.”

“Oh, _that’s_ what that was,” Maggie said with a shake of her head. “I just thought he was lactose intolerant. I didn’t wanna be rude. My daddy raised me better.” Rick chuckled and Simon muttered about the dis on his so-called cologne, locking the car behind him and lacing his fingers through Negan’s as they walked inside. It was late enough in the evening that customers were getting to be few and far between, though Rick suspected that most of the employees were used to the odd group of college kids coming in in search of sustenance.

“Alright, you sorry shits,” Negan said once they were gathered around the front of the store, huddling together beside the shopping carts and vending machines full of sticky hands like a baseball team before a big game. “Game plan. Me and Rick here and gonna go get the shit for the mac and cheese. Simon, you’re on beer duty. Get something good- I swear to god, if you cheap out on me when I’m buying a six dollar wedge of Parmesean, I’ll kick your scrawny ass back to freshman year.”

“You wanna talk about scrawny asses…?” Simon grinned, and Negan slugged his shoulder.

“Nope! Moving on. Carol, you seem like a wise woman of the world- you go with Simon and make sure he doesn’t get the kind of shit I see frat boys doing keg stands with. Maggie, Glenn- you guys find us a dessert. Go all out. Nothing with coconut, that shit’s for Pina Coladas and nothin’ else.”

“Sir-yes-sir!” Glenn saluted. “Coconut Cream Pie it is.”

“Fuck you, Glenny-boy! Alright, team, let’s move out!”

The others all took off in different directions, Carol and Simon already squabbling about lager versus ale. Negan grabbed a cart and Rick followed him eagerly, peeping over his shoulder to see what he was picking, amused by his mumblings about what kind of noodles would best hold his cheese sauce and if white cheddar was _really_ worth that extra buck-fifty.

“So it’s goin’ good,” Rick noted as they perused the fancy cheese section. “Simon seems pretty alright.”

“Yeah,” Negan nodded, “he’s alright. I’m sorry about- I mean, you _are_ too good for me, but I don’t want you thinking that- what he said the other day, you know. That that’s us. Alright?” Negan was such a naturally goofy person, so lighthearted right up until he wasn’t, and it made Rick appreciate the moments where he was so serious with him, all kindness and warmth in his big brown eyes, all the more. He smiled, one hand stopping the cart so that he could pull the taller boy down for a quick kiss that deepened before Rick could think better of it, his lips parting for Negan, hands twisting in dark locks of hair. “ _Baby_ ,” Negan whispered breathlessly, “I’d take you right here in the dairy section. Fuck you right on top of the shredded mozzarella.”

Rick’s shoulder shook with wordless laughter. “You’re an idiot,” he stated plainly, kissing the rough stubble on Negan’s chin.

“What?” Negan grinned, rocking forward on his heels. He was always moving, never still or silent. “Too _cheesy_ for you, Rick?”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Rick groaned, steering their cart down a new aisle. “That was terrible.”

“Aw, really? That’s okay, I’ll think of a _gouda_ one- _holy shit!_ ” Negan came to a sudden sneaker-squeaking halt in front of the cart and Rick slammed the whole thing into his hip, but the boy didn’t waver from where he stood wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “ _Rick_ ,” he whispered, voice dripping with awe that one usually reserved for sunsets and great works of art, “they have _cookie dough Oreos_.” Their eyes locked in a moment of shared wonder. “I’m getting two of these,” Negan said, arms full of cookies, their blue plastic wrappers crinkling.

“Negan, no,” Rick said just as Negan was dumping his haul into the cart. Rick wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone looks as disappointed in him as Negan did in that moment. “Get three. We’ve got people over.”

The whoop Negan let out could likely be heard from the produce department to the frozen foods. He gleefully added another pack to the cart before sweeping Rick to his arms and giving him a sloppy kiss. Rick laughed into it and then made a surprised noise when he felt himself being lifted into the cart alongside the pasta and cheese. “Negan…?”

“Lemme give you a ride, baby! C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Rick didn’t have time to give him his coveted _yes_ before they were taking off down the aisle at breakneck speed, turning corners hard enough to nearly send Rick flying. “What else do we need?” Negan asked as they sped toward the back of the store.

“Just milk, I think.” Admittedly, Rick was enjoying the ride. He hadn't sat in the cart like this since he was a kid and his mom would promise him that he could pick out the flavor of gum at the checkout if he was good. He always got the rainbow striped kind that was full of sugar.

“To the milk!” Negan bellowed, drawing the attention of an unhappy-looking older gentleman picking over the bratwursts. As they went whizzing toward the milk and juice, Negan hopped up onto his end of the cart, both boys wild and free for a glorious ten seconds before Glenn and Maggie turned the corner of an aisle and they had to swerve dramatically to avoid mowing them down.

“I could’ve dropped the cupcakes!” Glenn said accusingly, clutching the pastry box closer to his chest protectively. “Half are red velvet and half are pumpkin spice.”

Negan broke into a grin as Rick grabbed a carton of milk. “Pumpkin spice, huh?”

Maggie stuck out her tongue and plunked the cupcakes into Rick’s lap. “Don’t you start. I have it on good authority that you’re the one drinking the monstrosity they just started serving at Java Jam. Rick’s in there every other day to pick one of those up for you.”

“Yeah, because those sombitches are good as _shit_. They’ve got little pumpkin sprinkles on the whipped cream! And pie crust crumbles!”

Glenn snorted. “Alright. Wait- why the hell did you get so many Oreos?”

Negan looked at Glenn with the utmost seriousness, one hand protectively atop their mountain of cookies. “Let him without sin cast the first stone, Glenny.” When that line had the three of them doubling over with laughter, Negan rolled his eyes and went back to pushing the cart along toward the alcohol to retrieve Carol and Simon. “That’s something my good buddy Gabe told me over the summer. Judge not, my friends.”

“Gabe…” Glenn murmured as they walked, “is that the guy you told me about that did the sexy priest shoot with you?”

“The very fucking same.”

“Sexy _priest?_ ” Maggie asked, eyebrows raised. “Hoo, boy. I can't wait to see these photos of yours.”

Glenn chuckled. “So what color did he end up being?”

“Purple. Oh, and I think I finally found a blue!” Negan’s eyes twinkled, and Rick fought with all his might to keep his face impassive and free of damning blush. “Can’t wait for you guys to see them all together. They look fucking badass.” They spied Carol and Simon up ahead, their arms laden with beer and what looked to be a bottle of red wine and a carton of gelato, at which Negan and Maggie nodded approvingly. “Ready to fucking roll? My stomach’s growling just standin’ here.”

* * *

The Oreos turned out to be a good call on both their parts, because by the time that the macaroni and cheese was finished baking over an hour and a half later, they were all famished and had polished off a full package just grazing while they drank beer and waited on dinner. Their mouths were all watering when Negan finally ladled them out heaping bowls of creamy pasta, the cheese thick and gooey.

“Alright, I’ll give this one to you. This looks pretty damn good,” Carol conceded as she cuddled up next to Maggie on the couch.

“Oh, god. _Zoolander?_ ” Glenn called, shaking his head in disapproval of Simon’s movie choice.

“Zoolander is going to go down as one of the best movies in history, pizza man,” Simon retorted from the floor. “Like Citizen Kane. Or The Hangover. You can’t tell me that shit doesn’t have you bustin’ a nut.”

“It wouldn’t have me busting a nut even if I had a nut to bust,” Glenn volleyed back.

“But Glenn, _Glenn_ -” Rick interjected, waiting for the boy to turn toward him so that he could contort his face into a ridiculous mockery of a model’s face. “ _Blue Steel_ , man.”

Glenn snorted into his pasta. “That right there was better than the whole damn movie. Everyone should just watch Rick make that face and we can save ourselves an hour and a half.”

Negan emerged from his bedroom hauling his papasan and a couple pillows that he threw Simon’s way. “As much as I’d love to just stare at Rick all fucking night, I don’t know how I feel about the rest of you fuckers joining in. So shut the hell up and put some of my pasta in your pie-holes. I slaved over a hot stove for this shit.”

They shut up and ate while Ben Stiller graced the tv screen, Rick and Negan cuddling close together with Noodle curled warmly atop them. Rick made a plethora of pleased groans as he ate that Negan gladly accepted with the joy of an Olympic athlete earning the gold. “This is so _good_ , Negan,” he groaned, savoring the rich tang of cheese and the crunch of breadcrumbs.

“Best mac and cheese you’ve ever fucking had, right?”

Rick nodded eagerly. “Best I’ve ever had.” He flushed when he saw the wicked curve of Negan’s mouth at the unintentional slip of tongue, and buried his head into the taller boy’s chest. “Shut up. And go get me some more.”

“Yessir.”

“And the wine!” Maggie called at Negan’s retreating back.

“Yes ma’am!”

“And the gelato!” Simon added.

Rick thanked Negan with a kiss when he came back with their demands. Maggie doled out plastic cups of wine, pressing one into Rick’s hesitant hands. “I’ve never tried wine before,” he admitted, giving it a sniff.

“It’s good! Go on, wine and cheese and pasta- it’s almost fancy. Very Italian.” Nevermind that Rick was eating his pasta out of a striped Tony the Tiger bowl that Negan had gotten for mailing in ten Frosted Flakes boxtops. He took a swig and crinkled his nose at Maggie. “This tastes like hairspray, Mags.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” she shrugged. “Drink your wine, strawberry frappe boy.”

“Gimme a sip, baby,” Negan hummed in Rick’s ear, the sound travelling down Rick’s spine and making him shiver deliciously. He gladly handed the glass over, and when Negan pressed their lips together after, Rick found the taste of bitter and grapes to be much more pleasing on Negan’s tongue.

“If you two start dry-humping over there I’m morally obligated to start throwing cupcakes at you,” Simon’s voice sounded from across the room, breaking into the din of their nest. “Nobody wants to see that shit. Shit knows I’ve seen you stickin’ your dick in more people than I’ve ever cared to see, Negan.”

Negan chuckled uncomfortably, eyes darting from Simon to Rick. “Don’t be actin’ like you didn’t love it, you voyeur.”

“I didn’t mind seein’ that one chick that was on your dick last semester- but I’ll have to pass on your new boy. No offense, Rick. You’re pretty high caliber meat as far as Negan goes. He’s had a bit of a rut lately. That last guy? Shit, I’m pretty sure he was a philosophy major. _Philosophy_.”

Something discordant wormed its way into Rick’s gut and settled there. He didn’t like thinking of Negan’s past lovers- they were in the past. But the thought of being compared to them by Negan’s friends, maybe by Negan himself…

“Simon, shut the fuck up,” Negan snapped, serious now. “You wanted to watch this dumbass movie, so shove a cupcake in your fucking face and stop talkin’ shit.”

The uneasy silence that followed left Rick’s stomach fluttering anxiously, wondering if the night’s spell had worn off. Negan felt tense beneath him where they lay, his fingers no longer carding through Rick’s hair. _Is he just pissed at Simon? Is he thinking about the other people he’s been with? Is he thinking that maybe I don’t measure up to them after all…?_

The tension was broken several minutes later when Glenn burst into laughter and pointed to Rick. “That’s the face! The face you did! Hell, man, I think you did it better! You should be a model.”

Rick felt the rumble of Negan’s deep laughter beneath him, felt warm lips whispering low and sultry in his ear, “little does he know you’ll be a damn gorgeous model for me, baby.” Rick tipped his face up to see that Negan’s usual deep-dimpled had returned, and with it came a sense of ease that came so naturally when they were happy together. He leaned up to kiss the boy’s smirking lips, Simon’s words chased away by the taste of wine.

* * *

 

It was later that evening, when their friends had taken their leave and the kitchen was stacked with dishes and the fridge full of leftovers that Negan caught Rick by the waist as were slipping into his room for the night, his lips warm and reassuring at the boy's ear. "You know that Simon wasn't tryin' to be an asshole, right? I mean, he _was_ bein' an asshole...but you shouldn't listen to him. On account of him bein' an asshole." 

Rick tipped his head up to see worry in Negan's eyes- worry for him. "I know," he said honestly. "I like Simon. He says some dumb shit, but I like him. And I had a really good time tonight." 

The concern etched into Negan's face smoothed out easily, his eyes melting into something warm and homey that made Rick feel utterly safe. "I'm glad, baby." He dipped his head to catch Rick's lips, kissing soft and sweet with warm flashes of tongue that made heat stir low in Rick's belly. The last week had been a busy one with midterms, and half the time Rick had fallen asleep on the floor or the couch before making it into Negan's room. Even their mornings felt more rushed, their usual banter over the shower- or, more recently, their shared showers- had fallen by the wayside. They'd both been too stressed to think about it before, but now, with tests and critiques behind them and the inviting sprawl of weekend still to come, Rick felt the familiar pull of want growing within him again. And if Negan's roaming hands and soft sighs were anything to go by, he was feeling it, too.

Rick moaned into their kiss when Negan's hands found the curve of his ass, squeezing greedily. "Take me to bed," he murmured against the taller boy's lips, and Negan made a weak, needy sound low in his throat. 

"You- do you want to...?" He was always asking, always careful and gentle when it came to Rick, and Rick loved that about him. Loved the way Negan's eyes got wide and dark when he nodded and began stripping off their clothes, loved the hungry way he caressed and squeezed every new inch of exposed flesh. "Tell me Rick," he breathed out when their calves knocked against the bed and they sprawled together onto rumpled sheets. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you. Just tell me."

His mouth was at the hollow of Rick's throat working down, down down, hands effortlessly parting Rick's bare thighs. Rick looked down his body at him, at Negan's pink-cheeked face and parted lips and his own cock standing stiff and proud between them. "Fuck me," he said without a waver in his voice. He arched his back when Negan kissed over his hipbones, when he rubbed the rough stubble on his jaw over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. "Fuck me, Negan. I want it. I _need_ it. I'm ready- I've _been_ ready for you. Please."

The effect was instantaneous, the ripple of sheer lust that rolled through Negan like the tide, washing over them both in lapping waves and threatening to take them over. "Don't have to say please. Not with me. Not _now_ , anyway," Negan laughed, but it was shaky and rough with want. "I like the idea of you begging me...but not this time." He mouthed at Rick's cock, rutting his own against the bed as he did like the mere  _thought_ of taking it into his mouth got him off. Rick felt his toes curl so hard they cracked when Negan's wicked tongue flicked out against the wet, sensitive tip, eyes fluttering shut. "Taste like fuckin' _heaven_ , baby." He urged Rick over onto his belly, kissing the same path down the knobs of his spine that he had earlier down his chest and stomach, this time with his hands kneading the firm, supple flesh of Rick's ass. "Can you- the lube-" Rick pressed it into the boy's hands, rising onto his elbows and spreading his legs further. He heard Negan give a pained groan when he did. "Jesus Christ, Rick. Your fucking _ass_ , baby, goddamn. It's a work of art." Rick laughed into the pillow he was gripping and rolled his eyes- and then they rolled further back into his head when he felt Negan spread him and tease his opening with slick fingertips. 

"Just- oh, _god_ , Negan-" he moaned when one slipped in, and he realized quickly just how much he'd missed that feeling only in the handful of days since he and Negan had been too busy to get off together. 

"I mean it, Rick," Negan hummed as a second finger pushed in to join the first, his free hand rubbing over Rick's ass and thighs. "If it were up to me, I'd put your ass in a museum. It's so fucking fuckably gorgeous."

"You're not- _aah, right there!_ \- not supposed to touch the art," Rick teased. Negan chucked darkly, and then a swift, playful slap was delivered to one pale cheek, not hard enough to really hurt, but definitely enough to surprise him- both at the rougher touch and the way it made his cock throb and leak where it hung between his legs.

"You're awful mouthy in bed, darlin'." Negan withdrew his fingers and slick sounds filled Rick's ears. He turned his head curiously, face heating at the sight of Negan kneeling behind him, hard cock in hand, the shaft shiny with lube as he pumped himself. Rick licked his lips hungrily- _god_ , did he want that inside of him- and Negan smirked with self-satisfaction. "You like watchin' me?"

Rick met his eyes evenly, heat flaring between them. "I'd like it better if you hurried up and fucked me."

Negan growled, cursing as he gripped Rick's bare hips. "How do you want it, baby? From behind? On your back?"

Rick's face flushed, but he held Negan's lustful gaze even as a shudder rippled through his body when the head of the boy's cock slid over his softened entrance. "Like this," he answered, pressing back against him and feeling Negan's cock slip between his thighs and graze his balls. "I- all I've been able to think about lately is you behind me, fucking me and whispering all that dirty shit you love to say..."

"Stop! Fucking _fuck_ , Rick, you gotta stop or I'm gonna come all over your ass before I can even get inside you."

Rick laughed, dropping his forehead to his arms and raising his hips higher in wanton offering. "Do it, then. Please, baby. I want you so bad. I want you, I want- _aah_ -" Rick choked off mid-sentence when Negan rocked his hips forward and sank into him. He tensed, and then he felt the warmth of Negan's hand on the small of his back, rubbing and soothing alongside adoring words. 

"Shh, Rick. My beautiful boy. It's alright, honey. Let me in, I'm gonna make you feel so- so goddamned good..." 

Rick nodded mindlessly, already feeling so good, so full, with Negan sheathed deep inside him. The taller boy whispered soft, encouraging words into Rick's hair as he rocked into him, his pace maddeningly slow and only stoking the heat that was brewing between Rick's thighs. " _More_ ," Rick gasped out when Negan's cock slid over the sensitive place inside him. " _More, more, fuck!_ " He trembled beneath Negan, dick dripping onto the sheets, all rational thought having fled his mind from the moment Negan had touched him. "Oh, Christ, that's so- that's so fucking _good_ , Negan-"

"Yeah?" the boy breathed, curling his body around Rick's, bare skin on bare skin, breaths fogging over the nape of his neck and making the fine hairs there stand on edge. "You like that, Rick?"

"I love it, I love it, I-" Rick broke off with a wrenching cry as Negan sped up his languid pace, his hips grinding into Rick's after each deep thrust. Words died on Rick's lips as well as Negan's, every bit of praise and encouragement turning to panted whines and moans. The sound of Negan- _Negan_ , of all people- brought to his knees and mastered by pleasure to the point where he could only manage throaty, bitten-off moans that sounded like they may have been Rick's own name- it was too much. It was so different from his own fingers, or even Negan's, the feeling so much more full, nearly overwhelming, so easy to get swept up in. 

So he let himself. Rick let his anxious, overcareful brain throw caution to the wind and he didn't think about anything except the feeling of Negan all around him, curved over his body and rocking him forward into the sheets, warm and all-encompassing, the feeling of Negan sliding out and then back inside of him, his cock thick and hard and perfect, sliding over that place that dragged husky moans from somewhere deep inside him. Even now that he'd picked up the pace, his thrusts more urgent, he was gentle, hands smoothing over Rick's sides, up his thighs, one enveloping his cock and stroking smooth and full from root to leaking tip. " _More, more more_ ," Rick pleaded, shocked that he could find the breath to form words, "I'm close, I'm about to- to-" he ran out of breath, and Negan chuckled behind him. 

"Bite the pillow, honey. Unless you want the whole fuckin' floor to hear you comin' for me."

Rick could barely register that he had spoken before Negan was angling his hips with tender hands and thrusting purposefully into him, his hand working faster and faster up and down Rick's length, and Rick couldn't take any more. He cried out wordlessly, mind coming to a whirling halt as he came hard with Negan buried inside him, body drawn tight as a bowstring as he shouted loud enough that he was sure his voice would be cracked and raspy the next morning. He was vaguely aware of Negan's continued thrusts into him, his cursing- _fuck, Rick, so fucking hot so tight fuck fuck you're gonna make me...!_ \- but everything paled in comparison to the pleasure. It was only when the high of his orgasm began to face and the world began to slowly spin back into focus that he felt the flood of warmth in him that made him go impossibly more flushed, the feeling of Negan slowly, carefully pulling out of him and wetness dripping down his inner thighs. He collapsed forward and onto his side when he did, head hitting the pillow that he most definitely _did not_ remember to stifle his cries with. Negan's warm, sex-flushed body tangled with his own from behind, spooning him lazily while they both tried to catch their breath. 

Negan was, of course, the first to speak. 

"Guess that answers my Twinkie question, then," he laughed weakly. Rick took some pleasure in hearing that Negan sounded just as undone and debauched as he was. 

Rick couldn't help it- he felt good, felt fucking _amazing_ , and the laughter came as naturally as rain on a spring morning, bubbling up out of him until he and Negan were both clutching their sides and each other, Rick turning into him and laying his flushed cheek against the boy's firm chest. "Guess so," he agreed.

"You didn't bite the pillow, though."

"I didn't," Rick agreed, nuzzling in closer and humming happily when Negan rained kisses down on the top of his head.

"Next time I oughta try to get you to scream my name. Let the whole floor know who's delivering some sweet-ass orgasms." He chuckled, petting through Rick's sweat-damp hair. "Was it...was it good? Are you alright? Like...I mean, you know. I not being fuckin' condescending here, baby. First time. It's intense."

Rick felt something stir in him then- something much, much different and more terrifying than what he'd felt when Negan had kissed him earlier. It was always in those moments that Negan showed such sweetness, such thoughtful kindness toward him, that he felt his heart hurtling toward something new. 

"Yeah," Rick murmured, pulling Negan a little closer. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm really, _really_ good."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late-at-night-for-me update because originally they weren't gonna fuck in this chapter but then i kept putting it off in prewriting and realized this was the right place to do it, so i last-minute wrote the sex scene!! thank u all for commenting i'm sorry i'm very hit-miss with replying but just know that i cherish every bit of feedback i get!!! <3


	14. You Look So Good In Blue

Negan frowned at Rick’s reflection in the mirror, his face marred and warped by the heavy condensation that had gathered on the glass during their shower. “ _Riiick_ ,” he whined disapprovingly as the younger boy lifted a razor to his cheek, “you don’t have to shave that for the photos, you know. You look good with the stubble. Real fucking sexy. In fact, last night I was thinkin’ about how your face would feel between my legs…”

Rick dipped his fingers into the shaving-cream-and-hair muddied water in the sink and flicked it at Negan. “I’m already halfway done. You want me with half a beard in the photos? That’d look real good.” He tipped his chin up to get at the stubborn hairs along his jawline, tongue between his teeth. “Besides, it’s still too warm for me to try to grow a beard. Maybe in the winter. It’ll be like I’m hibernatin’.”

“People have beards year-round, Rick,” Negan pointed out, mourning the loss as Rick wiped down his smooth face with a wet cloth and washed away the excess shaving cream. “I’ll be lookin’ forward to that winter beard, though. You’ll be my fucking teddy bear, keep me real warm at night.” He smiled and reached over to smear a smudge of white by Rick’s ear with his thumb. “Don’t look much like a bear anymore, though.”

Rick groaned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’m just sayin’. Not with that baby-smooth face and…Jesus, those fucking lips, baby. Are you wearing lipstick right now?” He thumbed over Rick’s soft, plump pink lips, shivering when a flash of tongue escaped from between them.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Rick said for what must have been the thousandth time since they’d known each other. “It’s chapstick. You could use some, actually. You’ve been chewing your lip for the last three days.”

“It was the bio midterm! That shit’s over now, though. But I won’t say no to some chapstick. C’mere, share the love, honey.” Negan drew Rick close with a hand on his cheek, their lips mingling sweet and wet, and Negan thought he tasted a hint of cherry. Rick chuckled when they parted, planting one last kiss on Negan’s lips like he couldn’t get enough. “I was gonna go grab the stick, but I guess that works, too.”

“Sure did,” Negan agreed, giving Rick’s ass a playful swat as the exited the bathroom. “I’m nice and _moist_ now.”

“Oh, Christ. Don’t be weird.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, beautiful.” Negan threw himself onto the floor to play with Noodle, and waited for Rick to get dressed for work before he sank down onto the carpet to join in on a game of monkey in the middle with a catnip mouse. Rick liked having a cat- he’d only ever had dogs growing up, but he’d always loved trying to catch the strays in the park down the street with a bit of turkey or tuna. Noodle was a cuddler, and an attention hog to boot, so wherever Rick and Negan slept, she did, too. The days where Negan left before Rick so he could go to work, Rick had woke to find the kitten nesting in his hair like a baby bird.

“So, tonight?”

Rick blinked up at Negan questioningly. “Tonight what?”

“You wanna make your modeling debut tonight? I’ve got a friend who’s a grad student, and she said we could use her studio from five to eight on Thursdays because she’s got a night class she’s been teaching.”

Rick chewed his lip, nerves and the anxious thrill of something new mingling in his chest. “I…I’ve got work in twenty minutes.”

“You said you get off at four.”

“I do. I mean…will that be enough time to get me…ready? To be on camera?” What the hell even went into taking photos like that, Rick wondered? Surely Negan would have to put some makeup on him, cover up the imperfections and red marks and the bruises on his shin from him sliding down a flight of stairs a few days ago, do something to his hair, which was always unruly after work due to his nervous habit of running his fingers through it when the lines got long.

Negan chuckled and tossed Noodle's mouse at Rick’s face, to which the kitten eagerly pounced at with thankfully-covered claws. “I won’t have to do much to you, baby. You’re photogenic as hell.”

Rick spluttered, face warming. “How the hell do you know-”

“And _anyway_ ,” Negan continued like Rick hadn’t spoken, “I’ll be getting most of the shit together while you’re at work. I’ll move your paintings up there- if you’re okay with that! I’ll be real careful, wrap ‘em in newsprint before I move them. Or would you rather do that yourself? I’m not gonna be offended, that’s your shit.”

“No, that’s okay. Just be careful.” Rick had seen Negan act respectfully enough in handling his work before to trust him not to fuck anything up. He’d been so cautious with Rick’s paintings while they’d been set up in his room, treating it like a gallery, and the times he’d flipped through his sketchbooks, he’d done it with clean hands and careful fingers.

“Okay, cool, that’ll cut down on the time spent setting up, then. I’ll pick out what you’re wearing, have makeup and shit already up there, so all you need to do is meet me at the galleries after you get off. You know where they are, right?”

Rick nodded. “Sixth floor. Which one’s hers?”

“Six-o-five. Her name’s Sherry Carter, should be beside the door. Oh,” he added, watching with a smile as Noodle wove herself around Rick’s shoulders like a furry snake, “you got any other artsy shit that would look good as props? Sketchbooks, brushes, palette, shit like that? I mean, I could probably scrounge up some stuff lying around in the studio, but I want this to be as authentically _Rick Grimes_ as fucking possible.”

Rick nodded. “Oh yeah. My desk is full of shit like that, just grab some stuff. Got brushes in there, I have a wooden palette I use when I paint that actually looks pretty cool…it’s pretty damn blue,” Rick laughed. “And I’ve got sketchbooks and stuff on my desk and my shelf. You’ve already seen most of what’s in them, just pick ones you like, I guess.” The gravity of what he was allowing Negan seems to hit them both at the same time as he spoke. There was an intimacy to giving Negan such free reign in his room, in his sketchbooks, giving him glimpses into private thoughts and feelings he so rarely knew how to voice aloud.

“Alright, fuckin’ sweet,” Negan said, scooting over to Rick and kissing him sweetly on the lips, tasting of gratitude. “Look at you, blue eyes. Trusting me with all this shit. Who’d have fucking thought?”

Rick extricated Noodle from his shoulders and placed her in Negan’s lap, trying to brush the cat hair from his work shirt. “Not me, that’s for sure. I’ve gotta go. Don’t let her drink your cereal milk again, Negan. She doesn’t need to be drinkin’ all that sugary shit.”

“Yes, daddy.”

Rick flipped him off on the way out the door, groaning all the way. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

* * *

Rick was a distracted mess all through his shift, for once cursing that it was slow. Usually on days like this when the only people in the bookstore were the occasional stragglers looking for new earbuds or extra sharpies, Rick was thankful for the calm. He usually spent shifts like that idly straightening displaced textbooks or sitting around with whoever he was working with and listening to his shift manager, Sasha, tell stories about her wild childhood as an Army brat. But Sasha was off today and the only other person working was Daryl, who took being close-lipped to a whole new level. Rick, in a couple meager fits of boldness, had attempted to start conversations with him only to receive grunts or glaring silence or, at the very best, clipped one-syllable answers in reply. Rick strongly suspected that the management kept Daryl around solely because his surly demeanor warded off some of the more mouthy customers.

By the time his shift was over, Rick was a bundle of nerves wondering what Negan had in store for him. He fidgeted nervously with his hands as he made his way up to Sherry’s studio, knocking once and finding himself immediately yanked inside by eager hands.

“Rick! So glad you’re here, baby! Take your fucking clothes off.” Rick was blinded by bright stand lights and Negan’s white smile as a bundle of cloth was pressed into his arms. He blinked around the room, trying to shake off the disorientation and nerves. Negan had certainly been busy in the hours he’d been gone. The majority of Rick’s paintings were hung neatly on walls or perched on easels pilfered from the open studios downstairs, and the gaps on the wall were draped with silky periwinkle fabric and drawings that Rick recognized from his early days when he was only minoring in art- still lives and figure drawings and a couple of clumsy first attempts at watercolor before he’d gotten the hang of it. It was the first time he’d ever seen his work arranged so artfully and with such care, and it was with surprise that he realized that he liked how it all looked together. “Wow, Negan,” he murmured, stepping into the brightly lit circle of easels, fingering over the paintbrushes and sketchbooks that Negan had displayed with his careful photographer’s eye. “This looks…this is really somethin’.” One sketchbook in particular caught his eye in a splash of warm reds and purples, and he blushed even as he pointed it out. “You found that one, huh?”

Negan positively beamed, catching Rick’s hand and tugging him nearer so that they shared the same space, warm bodies pressed close. Negan looked delighted to have been Rick' subject, even if he hadn't known it. “Hell yeah I did! Hope you don’t mind, this didn’t take as long as it looks like it did, so I just spent some time looking through your sketchbooks. I like looking at your work.” Rick ducked his head, embarrassed and pleased, and kissed the soft cloth of the t-shirt covering Negan's shoulder. “I found that one and I just had to put it in there. A little homage to the photographer, am I fucking right or am I right? You okay with that?”

Rick nodded, smiling shyly. “I did those before we were…I did them at my parents’ house, first morning we were there.”

“ _You had a crush on me_ ,” Negan singsonged, kissing Rick’s furiously blushing cheeks over and over. “That’s fucking adorable, Rick. I thought that was when they were from. I recognized your room.” He plucked at Rick’s polo. “No offense, baby, but if this shirt was to burn up in a fire, it wouldn’t be a loss. Get that shit off, get this shit _on_ , I’ll put a little makeup on you, and then we can get to work.”

Rick felt Negan’s eyes on him as he stripped, devouring ever newly revealed strip of skin with hungry hazel eyes. “Goddamn, Rick. How’d I get so fucking lucky to get you in my bed, huh? Just look at you...your chest and those arms and those fucking _thighs_ …” Rick felt heat prickle in his face and chest, smiling flirtatiously as he shed the last of his clothes and stood in front of Negan in just his boxers. Negan clucked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head. “Oh no, baby. Those’ve gotta go.”

Rick choked. “Wh- _what?_ You want me- I’m gonna be…?”

“Oh, no!” Negan laughed, “No, I’ve just got nicer underwear for you. Here-” he tossed Rick a pair of form-fitting briefs in a shade of pale cerulean, and Rick caught them instinctively, rubbing the silky fabric between his fingers. “Those boxers don’t do your cute ass any favors.”

Rick stared down at the garment in his hands, pondering. _Christ, the whole goddamned art department is going to see these photos…_

“Rick?” Negan was in front of him suddenly, cupping his cheek with an ardent hand and thumbing over smooth skin. “Is this…is that alright? I mean, that’s not all you’re gonna be in, if hat helps at all. I’ve got one of your blue button-ups, I was gonna have you wear that, try it buttoned and unbuttoned, and then I’ve got this smock that’s all paint-splattered and shit, so you’re not gonna be-”

“No, no it’s okay,” Rick said, and it, strangely, enough, was. He’d never seen himself as sexy or desirable before. Lori had made him feel that way when they were together, but that was so long ago and he’d been even more insecure about himself in high school. But now, the thought of Negan seeing him as something beautiful and sexy and worth immortalizing in his photos…it made him feel more confident than he could ever remember. “I want to.” He hooked his fingers into the top of his boxers and tugged them down and off, stepping out of them and watching Negan as he did, reveling in the moment he saw the boy’s eyes drop from his face to his groin, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Right. Uh…fuck. Um. Alright. _Shit_.” Negan blinked rapidly and shook his head like he was trying to shake off his dirty thoughts. “Uh…the fuck was I saying?”

“Makeup,” Rick reminded him as he slid on the briefs. They fit him just right- how Negan had known they would, he couldn’t have guessed.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Negan muttered, eyes trained on Rick’s ass as he walked over and sat down on one of the chairs Negan had placed in the corner of the room beside a small table that was strewn with makeup. Negan sank down into the seat across from Rick, plucking up a tube of liquid foundation. “Alright. I’m not gonna put a lot on you- you don’t need it, nobody fucking does, but it helps to even out your skintone for the photos and shit. And the same with the eyeliner and stuff- I mean, you’re already fucking _gorgeous_ , but the camera will pick up on it more if I highlight those pretty eyes.” Rick nodded, and Negan got to work sweeping foundation over his face, a little blush on the apples of his cheeks, a touch of brown eyeliner and eyeshadow- “to make those baby blues pop, Baby Blue,”- and then a glossy finger swept over his lips, giving them shine. “All fuckin’ done. Now for the fun part.”

The first twenty of ‘the fun part’ consisted of Negan posing Rick in various ways at an easel, paintbrush and palette in hand, and then checking him out at every angle, buttoning and unbuttoning his shirt, ditching the shirt altogether for the smock, and then back to the shirt before he was pleased and they could actually start shooting.

“Tip your chin up…no, more toward me- yeah, like that! Fuckin’ gorgeous, baby, hold it right there and give me a big ol’ smile- now look like you’re really contemplating what you’re gonna do next. You’re _The Thinker_ , but hotter. Alright, now less like you’re taking a massive shit-”

Rick let out a wild bark of laughter and nearly dropped his brush, and Negan snapped away with the camera, laughing with him. “I do _not_ look like I’m takin’ a shit!”

“You did! I swear, I’ll show you when we’re done, you’ll see. Okay, now sit on that bench and stretch a little- oh, yeah, honey, just like that, let me see those fucking legs…” Rick blushed but complied, stretching his legs out while Negan posed his arms. It was a long while of that- tame shots of him among his paintings looking contemplative or overjoyed with his own work, and then Negan got an idea.

“Alright, now put this brush right up to your lips-”

“Negan.”

“Trust me on this, you look hot.”

“This is ridiculous.” Rick laughed, the bristles tickling his lip. Negan had long since convinced him to leave the shirt hanging open over his bare chest, and he felt stripped and sexy and daring. Rick smirked at Negan from over the camera and spread his legs where he was sitting, and Negan’s jaw seemed to unhinge.

“Ho-ly _shit_ , Rick…” he snapped photo after photo, making a pained noise when Rick shed the shirt entirely and tossed it aside. “My little playboy bunny. Goddamn, you’re hot. I’m at full fucking mast just looking at you right now, _fuck_. Alright. You wanna play around a little? I think I’ve got the shot I wanna use for the series, but if you wanna just have some fun up here while we’re all set up…”

Rick felt his face heat to burning, rendering the blush that Negan had swept over his cheeks redundant, but he nodded, intrigued and aroused all at once. He crossed his legs, feeling his cock begin to harden beneath Negan’s heated gaze. “Yeah. I’m game. What do you want me to do?”

Negan nodded to the briefs. “Take those off.”

Rick tensed. “I, uh…I don’t know…”

“Your dick’s gonna be covered, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Negan reached for one of the large tubes of paint on the easels and handed it to Rick, grinning wolfishly. “Here.”

The implication was already there, nothing more needed, and Rick chuckled, sliding down the briefs. His cock sprang up and Negan sucked in a breath. “Oh, fuck. Oh, baby, did you get turned on by me shooting you?” He groaned, abandoning his camera and pitching forward to grab at Rick's waist. “Fuck, that’s hot. And…I don’t think that tube’s gonna cover you up.”

Rick palmed his aching cock, eyes fluttering shut as he teased himself. “Well…I seem to remember you sayin’ something a while back about blowing me if I showed up in the middle of the night to the studio after you’d been avoidin’ me for two days.” Negan’s eyes darkened to a lusty black, breaths heavy. “Is it too late to cash in on that?”

“ _Hell_ fucking no it isn’t. Though, if I’m being honest, I’d blow you even if I hadn’t said that. I’ve been waiting to get that pretty dick in my mouth for _weeks_.” He licked his lips, regarding Rick’s erection with avid interest. “Can I…and feel free to tell me to fuck off with this- and I…set up the camera to take some shots of me blowing you?”

Rick spluttered, sure that his face was the color of a tomato. “ _What?_ You want-”

Negan gave him a hangdog grin. “Yeah. You look- really fucking sexy getting off, and you’re all camera-ready and…shit. It’d just be a lot of my head between your legs and your beautiful face as I blow you. You can sit on the bench and just let me work.”

“You’re…” Rick was at a loss for words, shaking his head fond exasperation. “You’re an insufferable pervert. Set the damn camera up and come get me off.”

Negan whooped with manic joy, planting a wet kiss on Rick’s glossy lips before darting back to set up the camera timer in record time. He nearly skidded across the floor on his knees in his effort to get back between Rick’s legs as quickly as possible, looking up at him with wide, reverent eyes and his lips mere inches from Rick’s dick. “You’re the fucking _best_ , Rick.”

Rick shivered from head to toe when Negan slowly drew his tongue up the length of him. _Fuck, that’s good_ , he thought as Negan nosed down to his balls, sucking one into his mouth and then the other, teasing him with his skilled tongue. “ _Fuck_!” he moaned when Negan’s lips closed over the leaking head, tongue swirling and dipping into the slit to taste him. Negan was all warm, wet mouth and strong hands sliding up Rick’s inner thighs and holding them apart while Rick’s fingers dove into Negan’s dark hair. He pulled reflexively when Negan gave his cock a harsh suck, both of them moaning in unison.

“Motherfucker,” Rick breathed, already panting, a bit embarrassed to be pushed to his limit so quickly. “You like having your hair pulled? Like goin’ down on me?” Negan groaned again when Rick gave purposeful, experimental tug to the dark locks, and Rick’s whole body tightened at the feeling of it around his aching cock. “ _Ooh_ , baby. That’s so- so good…” Negan kept working, his head dipping and bobbing as he took Rick all the way down his throat and swallowed around him. _Knows exactly what he’s doing_ , Rick thought wildly, his hips lifting and pushing gently into the plush, wet heat. “Gonna- gonna make me…” Rick warned, and that only spurred the boy on more, licking and sucking eagerly and reaching around behind Rick to grab at his bare ass and better bury his face in Rick’s crotch.

Rick came with a wrecked cry of completion, his chest arched and heaving as Negan swallowed and swallowed, taking everything he had to give. He pulled off with a soft, wet sound, kissing the flushed head of Rick’s cock and nibbling lightly at his inner thighs. “Yeah, I’m pretty fuckin’ good at that,” Negan said proudly, soaking up Rick’s hazy, blissed-out appearance. “You taste fucking delicious.”

Rick laughed breathlessly, giving Negan’s hair one last harsh tug. “And I learned a little somethin’ about you.”

Negan pushed up to his feet and turned the timer off on the camera. “Can’t wait to look at those later. Now…” he pointed to the tube of paint. “Put that in front of your pretty dick.”

* * *

“Negan,” Rick protested halfheartedly, “you said I could pay for the next date.”

“You want fries or tots for a side, Rick?” Negan asked, phone to his ear.

“Tots…but, Negan-”

“Right, both with tater tots. _Jalapeno cheese sauce?_ Hell yeah, give me a couple of those, too! Yep, that’ll do it. A half hour? Yep, sounds good. Thanks.” Negan hung up and tossed his phone aside on the bed. “Don’t give me that look, Rick. This isn’t a fucking date. This is me paying you for modelling for me. I ordered burgers that will be delivered to our very doorstep- the marvels of the modern food service industry, right? I’ll let you get the next one, I mean it. But I’m serious about paying you for modelling. I paid all the other guys, too. Modelling’s not easy- we were up there for three fucking hours and I was posing you like a damn Barbie doll the whole time.”

“Not the whole time,” Rick grinned, sliding a hand up under Negan’s shirt.

“Most of the time, then,” Negan corrected, eyelids fluttering shut as Rick’s warm fingers traced lazy circles up his chest. “And I’m not counting the blowjob as payment. I’m not a damn hooker. Although I did once go down on a girl for an Arby’s meal. Jamocha shake and everything.”

Rick’s head jerked up, glaring at the boy beside him. “You liar.”

“I did!” Negan insisted, laughing. “Though to be fair, we were kinda dating at the time. _Kinda!_ I mean, she probably would have paid for me anyway, but I like to think that was my one experience with prostitution.”

Rick groaned, pulling his hand out from beneath Negan’s shirt. “You’re a disgrace.”

“If it makes you feel any better, later that night she paid me back _in full_ , so I don’t really think it could count as prostitution. It was more like…she bought me a roast beef sandwich, I ate _her_ sandwich, and then later I fed her  _my_ beef, so-”

“Jesus!” Rick rolled off the bed, face hot. He scrubbed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling shy and small. “When’s the food gettin’ here? I’m starvin’.”

Negan frowned, sitting up on the bed. “About a half hour. Come back here, baby. I was liking the story your hands were tellin’ me. I wanted to know the end.” His voice was low and insinuating, and a moment ago Rick would have been following his instincts and the seductive purr of Negan’s voice, but now…

“I’m gonna take a shower before the food gets here. Long day.” He ducked out of the room and into the bathroom, feeling that familiar hollow of insecurity in his chest. In all honesty, that had been his plan from the moment they’d curled up in bed together: his mouth and Negan’s dick. But now, hearing Negan talk about some girl from high school blowing him, all he could think about was how many people Negan had over the years, people with experience. His mind worried the nagging thought over and over in his head as he stripped and stepped into the shower.

_He’d laugh, or he’d try to be polite- but what if he goes off and tells Simon? Or someone else? What if all I end up being is some footnote in his long list of people he’s fucked, some funny story to tell about the guy who gave shitty blowjobs-_

“Rick?”

 _Shit_.

“Rick, can I get in here with you? I think I’ve still got paint all on my back from when you came at me with the brush. Oil doesn't fuck around, huh?”

Rick blew out an exasperated breath in the steam. “Can’t you just wait your fucking turn, Negan?” It came out with more bite than he’d intended, and he cringed at the answering silence. .

“…Did I do something? Did I…was it what I said about the girl from high school?” Negan’s voice echoed in the small room, loud even over the sounds of running water. “You know I was just kiddin’ around, right? I mean- I’m not that easy. We were dating. I mean, like…friends with benefits, whatever, but it was a joke, the paying for sex thing. I'm sorry.”

“It wasn’t that,” Rick sighed. He watched as Negan's hazy silhouette neared the shower stall and tentatively pulled the curtain back just enough to look Rick in the eye.

“What was it, then?” He looked torn, worried, like he had done something wrong but couldn't quite work out what. _You didn't do anything_ , Rick wanted to say, _it's just me._

Rick closed his eyes, warm water dripping down his face, separating his hair into wet rivulets. “You’re gonna laugh. Or think I’m bein’ stupid.”

“Rick,” Negan said, sincerity in his eyes, “I am the stupidest motherfucker alive. I won’t think you’re being stupid.” He offered him a small smile. “Can I get in so I stop lettin’ all the warm air out?”

Rick sighed. “Yeah.”

Negan slid in, and Rick shivered at the rush of cool air until he was covered in the warmth of a body against his own. Negan gazed down at him, curious and seeking answers, and Rick’s words stuck in his throat. “Turn around,” he said, “I can’t talk with you lookin’ at me like that.”

Negan acquiesced, his back to Rick’s chest, and Rick automatically pressed in close behind him, arms locked around the taller boy’s waist and forehead between his shoulderblades. He felt like a child, clumsy and insecure and too afraid to talk with judgmental eyes on him.

“Rick?”

“It’s stupid- I know it is. Everyone starts somewhere. But I just- I feel like I’m gonna fuck up, and I’m gonna just be some dumb guy you fucked in college that gave shitty head. I’m scared I’m gonna suck.”

“Well, sucking’s kinda the point of a blowjob, so-”

“ _Negan_ ,” Rick sighed, “don’t. I’m serious.”

“Sorry. Sorry- bad timing. I’ve been told I use humor to deal with serious shit. I should work on that.” He reached back, smoothing a hand down Rick’s forearm and squeezing comfortingly when he reached his hand. “I felt the same way. The first time I was with a guy. I mean- probably not the exact same way, because you’re a lot more thoughtful than me. More worried.”

“Yeah,” Rick said quietly.

“That’s not your fault. It’s how you are- it makes you smarter sometimes, makes you cautious, but it also makes you scared a lot, and I know you don’t like that. I know you can’t help it, and I know that there’s no easy cure to make it go away, but I want to help make it easier on you if I can.”

Rick swallowed hard, squeezing Negan tighter, hating that his throat felt thick. _Don’t you fucking cry_ , he warned himself. “Thank you,” he managed to whisper out, hoping that Negan could hear how much it meant to hear that kind of sweetness and acceptance.

“Of fucking course,” Negan murmured. “But yeah. My first time with a guy- I was right out of my relationship with Lucille, and I didn’t know shit besides what I saw in porn. So I’m down there trying to deepthroat this guy, tongue all out, and fucking choking all over his dick, and he’s like ‘what the hell are you doing’ and I fucking _panic_. He’s up there wondering why the hell this guy is gagging and half-crying with a dick in his mouth and I’m trying to figure out how to make him come, and it’s a mess.”

Rick gave a weak laugh. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“ _Nonono_ \- that’s not what I- shit. Look, the point of that story was to say I didn’t know what I was doing and the guy I was with was kind of a prick, but also I’d kinda lied and told him I’d been with guys before because I was scared and wanted to seem experienced- and it blew up in my face. You? You’re already smarter than me. Braver than me. I thought I could fake it, but I couldn’t, and it wasn’t until I dated a guy and honestly told him I had no clue what the hell I was doing that I was able to actually learn shit. And look at me now! I had you coming so hard earlier you almost feel off the damn bench.”

Rick laughed quietly into Negan’s skin, feeling lighter as the giddiness and relief set in. “So you’re sayin’ you’ll teach me?”

Negan turned in Rick’s arms, sliding his fingers through Rick’s soaking wet hair, pushing the locks out of his eyes. “Nothing on this whole godforsaken planet would make me happier than teaching you how to give a damn good blowjob.”

Rick chuckled, leaning in and pressing a wet, lip-smacking kiss to the center of Negan’s chest. He looked up a Negan though dark eyelashes, his anxiety having faded to a mild nag that he could easily shove away. “How ‘bout right now?”

He swore he could _see_ Negan’s eyes go dark and hungry like a wolf’s. “It’s as good a place as any,” Negan whispered, sounding strained and yearning. “Easier to clean up if you don’t wanna swallow.”

Rick grinned, hands roaming up Negan’s bare back as his mouth found the boy’s neck, kissing wet and open and sweet and then nipping hard, feeling how it made Negan’s hips jerk up into his. Negan cupped his face, urging their mouths together in a hungry kiss, both their hands dropping well below the waist to squeeze and touch. Negan’s mouth flew open in a breathless gasp when Rick gave his ass a rough squeeze, and Rick smirked against the boy’s lips. “This ain’t the only thing you need to teach me how to do,” he murmured, trying to imitate the way Negan’s voice always got low and sexy when he flirted. He slid his fingers into the cleft of Negan’s ass, teasing.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Negan moaned, fingers tightening on Rick’s hips. “Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Rick. Got a dirty little mouth on you, baby.” Rick slowly dropped to his knees, his face level with Negan’s hard, dripping dick. He felt a tremor run through Negan’s body beneath his palms when he licked his lips at the sight. “Just- just do what feels natural, think about what you-what you liked when I went down on you. I’ll guide you through the rest.”

 _What feels natural_ , Rick repeated over and over in his mind. He could barely think straight between apprehension and excitement, so he let instinct take over, his wants guiding him forward. He _wanted_ to kiss the tip of Negan’s cock, so he did, chaste and tame at first and then with a flick of tongue to taste the wetness there. Salty, but not unbearable, so he kept going, kept licking his lips and kissing his way down Negan’s dick until his nose met short, dark hair. More boldly, he slid his tongue up the length of him from his balls to right under the head, and heard Negan’s head thump softly against the shower wall, a breathy _fuck_ escaping him.

“Keep- keep going…”

Rick took him into his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip and then moving down slowly, trying to mimic the way Negan’s tongue had slid down his shaft when he’d been between Rick’s legs earlier. He stuttered to a stop halfway down, mouth full, and when he looked up at Negan with wide, searching blue eyes, he felt the boy’s cock twitch and leak onto his tongue. “Oh, fuck, baby. That’s…oh, fucking _god_ , if you could see yourself right now.” He stroked through Rick’s wet hair encouragingly, fingers rubbing his scalp. “You’ve got this, Rick. You just-” Rick pulled back slowly, lips dragging along the velvety flesh. “ _Oh, fuck!_ Yeah, just like that, keep- keep fuckin’ going, that’s- that’s real good- little less teeth- _fuuck_ , yeah…” Rick flushed deep scarlet under the praise, warm water hitting his back and rolling down, lips getting bruised and puffy as he swallowed Negan down again and again. He could feel the tension in Negan’s thighs where he was gripping him, the muscles there strained from holding back. Rick remembered how it felt to buck up into Negan’s mouth, how deep the boy had taken him, and determinedly pressed forward. Negan gasped above him when Rick took him deeper, his cock nudging the back of Rick’s throat…and then Rick choked, pulling off and coughing wetly, tears in his eyes a he fought to right himself.

“Hey, hey, blue eyes. Don’t fuckin’ get ahead of yourself, alright?” Negan's hand rubbed soothingly over Rick's cheek, one finger stroking his swollen lower lip. “Fuck. You alright?”

Rick smiled up at him, working his sore jaw, determined. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And then he was back, swallowing Negan down more carefully this time, his hand stroking the inches his mouth couldn’t reach. In no time, Negan was back to breathless praise and soft whines. “You’re so good, darlin’, so fuckin’ good…god, I’ve been thinkin’ about you sucking me off for so long with those pretty pink lips, you're fuckin’ _made_ to suck my cock…”

Rick shot him a playful glare that he was too far gone to notice and gave him a swift slap to the hip that made him tremble with laughter that quickly choked off into a moan when Rick’s free hand slid between his legs to cup and caress his balls. “Ohh, god, you know just how to- to fuckin’-” his hips rose just slightly, breaths erratic. “Rick, _Rick_ , I’m gonna- you’re gonna make me-” he tugged frantically at Rick’s hair, trying to pull him off, but Rick didn’t move. He was curious, wanting a taste, and it was only after a shuddering breath flew from Negan’s lips and his release pooled in Rick’s mouth that he pulled off. One last spurt landed across Rick’s cheek and dripped down his chin. Shocked, Negan looked down at him and groaned loudly, hips bucking like he wanted to come all over again. “Oh, fuck me. Look like the fuckin’ incarnation of sin itself down there covered in my spunk with a mouthful of come and your lips all…bruised up from suckin’ my dick…fuck…” Rick swallowed, finding that he didn’t mind the taste much, and Negan ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “My brain doesn’t understand that my dick is not physically capable of going again ten seconds after blowing a massive fucking load in that pretty mouth of yours.”

 “So that was good, then?” Rick asked, leaning back to rinse the come off his face before it got tacky. Negan nodded vigorously, urging Rick up and capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss.

“You’re a fucking natural.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i know how to end chapters other than putting smut there. really.


	15. Going To Better Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two things...I made a [moodboard](http://hatterized.tumblr.com/post/171244989397/) for this fic if you wanna check that out, and then, even better, commissioned Laundy for [art of painter Rick](http://laundy.tumblr.com/post/171369510304/), which is so beautiful I want to cry every time I look at him. Go give them all the love in the world.

It hadn’t occurred to Rick that he’d been talking to Shane less and less frequently lately until he got a call one evening out of the blue while he and Carol were teasing Noodle with a mouse-shaped laser pointer and polishing off the last of the Oreo stash.

Rick blinked down at his phone screen, almost alarmed when he saw who it was- Shane _never_ called him. It had always been one of those things- Rick hated talking on the phone and Shane knew it, and they’d never been apart long enough to really need anything longer than texts.

“Be back in a minute,” Rick murmured as he stepped toward his room. Carol waved him off, licking crème from her cookie.

“Shane? You alright?” Rick asked as soon as he answered the phone, and was relieved to hear his friend’s boisterous laugh on the other line alerting him that all was well.

“Yeah, everything’s good…’cept I haven’t seen you in ages! Where you been, man? You too busy with your _boyfriend_?” he teased, drawing out the o. Rick shuffled his feet guiltily- his parents hadn’t hassled him about coming home every weekend. In fact, his mom had outright told him that she was happy that he was making friends and finding reasons to stay on campus- _engaging with other like-minded folks_ , she’d said.

The apology fell from his lips before he could even think to question it. “I’m sorry, Shane. It’s not just Negan- you know I ain’t like that. It’s gonna sound like a lot of excuses, but I’ve been busy down here. Doin-”

“ _Busy?_ Oh boy, they runnin’ you art kids ragged down there?” That disbelieving tone rankled something in Rick. It was how Shane had gotten sometimes when Rick had first started dating Lori- a little condescending, a little possessive, and always, _always_ operating under the assumption that Rick’s time was Shane’s for the taking. _It was a tone that said what could be more important than me?,_ and Rick hated it.

“Like I was _sayin_ ’, I’ve been doin’ stuff. Things. Midterms were last week and I’ve been working on stuff for this art show at the end of the semester, and I’ve made some friends here. So yeah. I’ve been busy.” _And I don’t remember you worrying about how little time we were spending together over the summer when I went from seeing you almost every day to once a week, then once every two weeks, then only when you could invite your academy buddies and we could drink_ , Rick thought sourly, the words poised like a bitter pill on the tip of his tongue. _Guess it’s only when I’m the one with other things to do that it’s a problem._

“Well, I miss you, man. I know it’s a drive to get over to these parts, though. And I’m glad you’ve found some people there. I worry about you.” Rick wondered if he was just in a bad mood today, because that prickled at his skin, too. He didn’t like being condescended to, particularly by someone he loved so much.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “well, now you don’t have to.”

“I’m always gonna worry about you, man. It’s just what friends do.” That settled Rick a little, some of the bitter anger draining away. “And I _do_ miss you. I know that…I mean, I ain’t stupid, Rick. I know I act it sometimes- been actin’ it more lately- but you’re my best fuckin’ friend. My oldest friend. Ain’t nothin’ changed that. I know shit’s been different. But I’m happy. And I’m glad you’re gettin’ there, too.”

Rick swallowed hard, his throat thick with tears that had snuck up on him with surprising speed. It was impossible not to notice the way he’d left off _my brother_ after he’d called Rick his oldest friend. The gap there felt glaringly obvious, a gaping hole punched into a wall that neither wanted to acknowledge. Something about what Shane had said, the way he’d said it, with such acceptance and blasé, had felt like a closed door. _I know shit’s different and we’re not as close, but I’m happier this way_ \- that’s essentially what Shane had said. He’d danced around it, made his words kinder and more cushioned, but Rick heard the intent loud and clear. There were some things that would never be erased between them, and Rick’s ability to read his friend was one of them.

“I am,” Rick said into the phone, blinking back the sting in his eyes. “I’m gettin’ there.”

“Good,” Shane said, that old familiar smile back in his voice. “It’s good to hear your voice, man. I gotta go- fuckin’ Wallace made me swear I’d pay the tab. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Alright,” Rick whispered, and then Shane was gone.

Rick sat slumped against the door, phone loose in his hand, until he heard Carol’s voice on the other side calling him back.

“Rick! Hey, Negan’s back, can we order dinner now?”

Rick shook his head hard, rubbing at his eyes and tossing his phone aside onto his bed. “Yeah,” he called hoarsely. “Be right there.” When he stood, his eye caught on the photo on his desk of himself and Shane, and an ache that was part sadness and part anger and part something else that he couldn’t name bloomed in his chest. Unable to keep looking, he snatched it up and gave it one last long look before he tucked it carefully away in a drawer beside acrylics and psychology notes.

 _You need to go out there_ , he told himself sternly, his fingers still brushing where the photo had been, _you need to go be with them and you’ll be okay._ But his feet couldn’t move, the weight of his conversation with Shane heavy in his chest, tethering him to the spot.

 _Move_ , he told himself, _move, move._

“Rick?” Carol’s voice rang soft and sweet through the quiet room. “Sorry to bug you, Negan’s tryin’ to order Hawaiian pizza and I told him that we were getting that shit over my dead body- hey, you okay?” She caught sight of his face when he turned to look at her, and whatever she saw was clearly enough to worry her, because she was beside him immediately, her hand on his wrist. “Rick? Something happen?”

Rick blinked down at his feet, face warm and embarrassed. Dammit, he _hated_ crying in front of people, but he could feel it rising in him like a bust dam swelling a river. “I…”

“Rick! Tell Carol she’s bein’ fucking unreasonable and that pineapple on pizza is the food of the fucking gods…” he trailed off awkwardly, glancing between Rick and Carol. “Something wrong?”

 _Say something before they start thinking that something’s actually wrong, idiot,_ Rick chided himself.

“No,” he said, trying to push his sadness away. “No, I’m…I’m okay.” Negan was by his side in a second, frowning like he didn’t believe him. “I just…Shane called. I don’t know. It’s not like- he didn’t say anything wrong. Not anything that he meant that way. I’m bein’ stupid.” Even as he said it, he felt fresh tears blur his vision. _Goddamn it._

“C’mere,” Carol murmured, tugging Rick to sit down on the bed with her and Negan on either side, their hands on him, around his waist and shoulders.

“Guys, I don’t need- it’s not…”

“You’re fucking upset, Rick. It’s alright.” Negan kissed his cheek gently.

“I don’t need to be!” Rick shouted, surprised by the volume of it. If he was Carol or Negan, he would have jumped, but they both took it in stride. “I don’t fucking- I don’t have a fucking reason to be, he didn’t say anything- he hasn’t done anything to me! He- he…he’s allowed to have his own fucking life, he’s allowed to be happy without me- happier without me, his fucking shadow. He’s allowed to even if I always felt like I wasn’t worth fucking _anything_ when I wasn’t beside him. He’s allowed to have new friends that he likes more and not call me the same things he called me when we were kids and he’s allowed to grow up and away from me and he’s allowed to not feel guilty about it even though I can’t skip a weekend trip home without feeling like I’m…like I’m the one who gave up on our friendship.” The tears came hard then, spilling down his cheeks and into his mouth, salty and hot. His face burned- he was sure he sounded ridiculous, childish, whiny, looked disgusting with his eyes red and puffy and his nose dripping, but he couldn’t stop, not now that he’d finally allowed himself to say any of it.

“He left,” Rick whispered brokenly, “he left, he’d always been leaving me behind my whole life and I’d been running to catch up, following him everywhere because I didn’t know how to be without him, and he finally…he finally got away from me. I just couldn’t fucking _do_ it anymore, I couldn’t follow him somewhere I didn’t wanna go. So I didn’t. I didn’t, and I know he’s the one who pulled away from me first. He hurt me. He’s done a lot of shit to hurt me, and it’s never anything big, it’s never intentional, but I feel like I’ve been fucked up about it all for so long and-and…” he faltered on his words, sniffling pathetically. “I don’t know if I even miss him anymore. This new him, anyway. He’s not the same guy he was. It’s not that this new guys is bad- he’s not a bad guy. He’s just…he’s not the Shane I grew up with. He is, but he’s not. We were always each other’s, always, and now…now I’m not his and he’s not mine, and I don’t know what to fucking _do_.”

The silence that followed felt like needles under his skin, and he was acutely aware of the sounds of his wet sniffling and attempts to stifle the flow of tears. _You’re being fucking ridiculous. You’re pathetic, they think you’re pathetic, crying about him like this-_

 “Rick,” Carol murmured gently, lacing her fingers between his on her knee. “Sunshine, you’re going to be okay. You’re doing so well without him- I know you can’t see that, but you are. Look at us- the first time I saw you in class, you kept to yourself, didn’t talk to anyone. Just put your headphones in and drowned the whole world out. Now you’re texting me every time your illegal cat does something cute and buying me banana muffins on Tuesdays because you know I hate that godforsaken sculpture class I have at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Yeah,” Negan chimed in, “and you’ve got a hot guy who makes you waffles and fucks you up down and sideways- literally.” Rick chuckled weakly, but with genuine mirth, rubbing at his cheeks with his sleeve. “You’re entering that art show and you fucking _modeled_  for me and yesterday when you tried to make French toast for dinner, it was mostly edible.” He pulled Rick closer, cheek to the top of the boy’s curly head. “You’re good, Rick. You’re doing really, really good. Fuck Shane, baby. You don’t _need_ him- that’s not how friendship’s supposed to be. If you still want him in your life because you care about him and he makes you happy, that’s one fucking thing. But you don’t need to be around him to be worth something. You’re worth a whole fuckton all on your own.”

Rick felt the last remnants of tears drip down his face from cheek to chin to the hem of his shirt as he clung tight to Negan. He felt Carol leave briefly and come back a moment later, pressing a wad of tissue to him with a soft smile.

“Sorry for…for cryin’ all over you…” he mumbled shyly, trying to not look completely repulsive as he blew a good pint of snot into the tissues and tossed them into the trashcan by his desk. “I don’t normally do that. Around anyone.”

Carol shook her head and accepted him back into her arms gladly. “Don’t be stupid. It happens. It’s a friendship rite of passage. Whenever I get you to watch Eternal Sunshine with me, I’ll cry all over you.”

“I feel more than fucking honored to have your snot all over my shirt, Rick. Really,” Negan grinned, and it was so similar to what he’d said not long ago about being covered in Rick’s come that Rick couldn’t help the fit of helpless laughter that shook him fully, dissolving into cathartic giggles with Carol and Negan holding him tight in their arms.

In the end, it was one medium Hawaiian, one medium Alfredo, one cookie-pizza and a Mad Max marathon in Rick’s bed, the three of them cuddled close to all fit beneath the covers together. Carol let Noodle in as soon as they were finished eating- she was notorious for getting into anything with cheese or meat- and she’d curled up on Rick’s hip where he lay warm and safe between Negan and Carol.

* * *

Rick was pressed close to Negan, their legs tangled together beneath the blankets that Rick had brought from home when he’d gone to visit his parents last weekend. It was finally, _finally_ getting colder, the summer heat and humidity taking their last bows as October rushed in. It was hardly cold yet- that usually didn’t come until closer to November, but it was enough that the air conditioner didn’t need to be on and Rick had taken to donning one of Negan’s hoodies on particularly brisk mornings. The deadline for the art show submissions was nearly upon them, and for once, Rick had gotten off his ass and turned his pieces in early, giddy with relief when he’d dropped them off.

Negan, on the other hand, had waited until the last possible minute to choose Rick’s photo and get it printed. “Because it’s too hard to fucking pick, Rick!” had been his excuse when he’d insisted that Rick come sit with him and go through the photos with him to help eliminate ones he didn’t like.

So here they were, flicking through photo after photo on Negan’s laptop of Rick in an ocean of blue, looking flirtatiously at the camera. And sometimes less than flirtatiously. It pained Rick to admit it, but there were in fact a couple that he looked more constipated and less contemplative, like Negan had said. He was surprised, though- for the most part, the photos were worth looking at, Rick looked like something worth looking at.

“So which one of these?” Negan asked, flicking back and forth between two over and over until Rick had to snatch his hand off the trackpad so he could focus. They’d narrowed it down to two vastly different ones- one with Rick in the paint-smudged smock, his blue-clad backside angled fetchingly and a paintbrush poised at his lips in thought, and one with Rick in the unbuttoned shirt, chest bare and thighs apart with his palette strategically covering his groin. It was one of the ones that Negan had taken on impulse later in the session, but it worked- flirty and fun with a hint of shyness in Rick’s blue eyes and blushing cheeks.

“I _know_ which one you like better, Negan. It’s your phone background for god’s sake.” Rick stuck his fingers into the boy’s ribs.

“Yeah, but I’m asking _you_.”

“I like ‘em both just fine, baby. Really. If you wanna do the one with the palette covering my dick-”

“Hot damn!” Negan whooped, immediately moving the file to the printing folder. “I was hopin’ you give me the go-ahead to use that one, honey. It’s fucking _perfect_. Just like this-” Negan’s hand slid up between Rick’s thighs beneath the covers, cupping him. “-is fucking perfect.”

Rick tried to force his breaths into steadiness, an impossible task while Negan’s deft fingers rubbed at his cock through his jeans. “R-right. Uh, so…where’s the rest? Can I see how those ones came out?”

Negan’s hand didn’t leave him as he switched over to a folder appropriately labelled ‘XXX’. Immediately, Rick felt his face heat to burning when Negan began scrolling through file after file of him with Negan’s head between his open thighs. He could see the progression of it, watching himself get red and redder, his head thrown back, mouth hanging open, hands buried in Negan’s hair and grasping like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

He was all too aware of the growing bulge in his pants that Negan was still palming at, the feeling of the boy unzipping him with excruciating slowness, both of their faces still fixated on the screen.

“You look fucking _hot_ in these, Rick,” Negan murmured. He flicked open the button of Rick’s jeans. “See right there?” his finger hovered over the screen, pointing to the way Rick’s thighs had now closed around Negan’s head for a picture or two before Negan had slid his hands up them and pushed them more firmly apart. “ _God_ , that’s fucking sexy. I can see your muscles straining. I can fucking _see_ how you’re trying to hold back.” Negan’s hand was down the front of Rick’s open pants now, tracing the shape of Rick’s stiff cock through the cotton of his briefs. Rick felt sweat prickle at his hairline, breaths growing heavy and labored. Negan kept going.

“And here, right before you come, how you’re biting your lip? _God_ , you were trying so hard not to blow your load in my mouth like the good boy you are.” Negan rubbed him more firmly, and Rick’s hips rose subtly off the mattress to seek more of the boy’s hand. “And then you fucking _did_ ,” he skipped ahead to that moment, rubbing more vigorously now, a wet spot forming where Rick was leaking steadily. Rick’s breath hitched when he saw it- he’d never seen what he looked like when he was coming before, how utterly _undone_ he looked, how his mouth hung open- and he remembered the cry that had left him at that moment even though he couldn’t hear it now.

“You tasted so fucking delicious, baby.” Rick’s cock twitched against Negan’s frantically working hand. “Never seen anything hotter than you coming that fucking hard in my mouth. I watched you the whole fucking time, didn’t wanna miss a second. And those little sounds you made when I kept sucking you through it, all sweet and soft and needy, those little moans lettin’ me know how good I made you feel…” Rick made one of those sounds now, his head dropping onto Negan’s shoulder as he bucked up more frantically, trying to stifle his noises by biting his tongue.

“My beautiful boy,” Negan crooned, and that was the final push over the edge. Rick whimpered softly through it, stuttered gasps of Negan’s name that made the older boy preen proudly.

* * *

“Baby!” Negan hollered into Rick’s bedroom, “Guess what this weekend is!”

Negan was bouncing on his heels, eyes bright, wearing nothing but a winning smile and his pan pride flag around his shoulders like a cape as he stood in Rick’s open doorway like a joyous gay maniac hell-bent on merriment.

“Hm,” Rick mused, openly eyeing up his lover’s bare body, naked and free, “I’m not sure. It’s not your birthday, is it?”

Negan frowned, shoulder slumping. “No, jackass. You’d better know when my fucking birthday is, you ass. You had better know the birthday of the sweet, sweet lover that made you come three fucking times last night.”

“I know it’s not your birthday, idiot.” Rick rolled his eyes. "I was just sayin'- birthday suit." Negan snorted, waiting for a real answer. “I’m guessin’ it’s Pride-”

“ _It’s Pride Weekend!_ ” Negan shouted so loud that Rick was sure that the whole floor knew. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot what with all the work I’ve been doing on the photos. But all that’s over, and now it’s time for three days of booty shorts and body glitter and drag shows! Whataya say, Rick? You gonna be my date to Pride?”

Nervous excitement tingled through Rick’s body- _Pride_. He’d always wanted to go, ever since he’d first realized he was bisexual, but he’d never had anyone who’d wanted to go. He’d been too awkward to ask Lori, and Shane had never seemed interested.

But now, with Negan…he had a reason to go, and someone to go with.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “yeah, I’ll be your date. Atlanta’s a bit of a drive, though. Not that I mind! It’d definitely be worth it, and I can make sure I don’t drink enough to-”

“Nope! Stop that fucking thought right there, Rick. You’re not going to be my designated driver at your first fucking Pride. And you’re not driving, either. We’re takin’ my bike, and we’re getting a hotel. Or, well…a motel. Turns out, hotels in the middle of the goddamned city are pretty damn expensive during Pride. Who fucking knew, right?”

Rick blinked. “Negan…how much…”

“Not that much! And you’re paying me for half of it. I know you’ve got the money, the motel was pretty damn cheap, nothin’ that’ll break the bank. It’s within walking distance of a bunch of shit, and anything else we can take an Uber or the Marta. C’mon. You know that sounds good. You and me, a hotel in the big city, surrounded by our Queer kinfolk. It’s gay Mecca. Well, the gay Mecca of the South. You in?”

“How can I say no to gay Mecca?” Rick laughed, gesturing for Negan to come closer. “Now c’mere, you goon. I’m gettin’ horny just sitting here lookin’ at your dick.”

* * *

Rick dropped Noodle off with Carol for the weekend and then they left at the ass-crack of dawn on Friday morning to beat the rush of Atlanta traffic. Rick was draped in a spare leather jacket of Negan’s and clinging tight to his back, wired on the two shots of espresso that he’d chugged to keep awake and alert. Negan wove easily between lanes, and by the time they got into the heart of the city the sun had risen and traffic was in full bloom.

Motorcycles were decidedly much less exciting when you were rolling to a stop every five feet.

Their motel was the kind of place that one might expect to see decorated with crime scene tape and police cars, but there was a Hardee’s so close that Rick could have spit and hit it, so he wasn’t about to complain. He liked a biscuit in the morning.

“Room one-forty-one, sugar,” Negan said, tossing Rick the key card. “I’m tempted to bring my baby inside the room and park her there. This place is sketchy as _shit_. There was a rat trap on the front desk. And I’m pretty sure that the guy that checked us in only _muted_ the porn he was watching. Muted, Rick. Didn’t even pause it.”

Rick chuckled, stepping into their room. It wasn’t bad, admittedly- didn’t smell, the sheets looked clean, the only stains on the walls and ceiling looked to be from mild water damage. Rick tossed the backpack that he’d managed to shove both of their clothes and toiletries into onto the chair in the corner and Negan launched himself onto the bed, bellyflopping onto the ancient mattress with an alarming creak.

“Hoo, shit,” Negan laughed, bouncing lightly. “Our neighbors are gonna _hate_ us.”

Rich chuckled and drew a now-warm water bottle out of his bag, frowning when he opened the tiny minifridge below the tv set. “There’s a can of dip in here.”

Negan howled behind him. “Course there fuckin’ is. What kind?”

“French onion.” With a great mustering of courage, Rick cracked the lid of the can. “It’s only half gone, but somehow I think I’d rather it go to waste.”

“Don’t suppose they left any chips, too?”

“Nope,” Rick answered with a shake of his head, closing the fridge. “There _were_ some loose cold cuts in there, though. You could make a baloney-and-dip sandwich.”

Negan drew Rick toward the bed with fingers in his beltloops, pulling until the boy was straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress. “I’m gonna pass. I’m thinkin’ Hardee’s for lunch…right after I take one long-ass nap. I wasn’t meant to get up before the sun shines.”

Rick followed him back down onto the bed, sprawling on the boy’s chest and kissing right above his heart. “Sounds good. Wake me up when it’s a reasonable hour.”


	16. Bright Lights Are Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly delayed chapter because I ran out of prewritten ones, but it's a long one!

 

Their first night in Atlanta was lazy and low-key. They didn't wake from their lazy catnaps until past five when the sunlight was beginning to wane, their bodies confused and achy and heavy with too much sleep.

“Hungry…”  Negan groaned out, a tangle of long, sweaty limbs. The room was like a sauna, and it was because of that that they found themselves rolling out of bed and seeking refuge in the cool evening air. They looked a mess, Rick realized too late- rumpled clothes and messy bed-head sticking up at odd angles. Negan's hair looked like he’d never so much as heard of a hairbrush.

Rick found himself smiling as they walked hand-in-hand down the city sidewalks, nothing in mind but finding something that sounded good to eat.

“Want…want…” Negan bit his lip, brow furrowed as they scanned street signs. “Want coffee. And alcohol.”

Rick nodded vigorously. “Oh, god. Yes. I’d kill for coffee right now. And one of those black and white cookies.”

“And a banana nut muffin.”

“Blueberry for me,” Rick said, and it earned him a sleepy, sideways look from Negan. “What?”

“But…but _baby_ ,” he whined, leaning in close, cinnamon-gum breath clouding Rick’s face. “Banana. _Nut_.”

Rick groaned, shoving Negan aside and laughing as he picked a direction that he hoped would lead them to a Starbucks. “I should’ve known.”

“Got two of my favorite things, Rick.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Bananas…and nuts.”

“Yep.”

“It’s an _innuendo_.”

“I know, Negan.”

“ _Don't take offence at my innuendo_ …” Negan crooned, terrible and off-key and loud enough to draw the attention of a couple of people walking innocently nearby. Rick shushed him and laughed even harder, one hand clamped over the boy’s mouth.

“You’re no Freddie. Hush. It’s too early in the weekend for you to be singin’ Queen down the street, you’re not even drunk.” He spotted a Starbucks sign up ahead and sighed with relief.

“Drunk on you, baby blue,” Negan singsonged, planting kisses all over Rick’s face while they walked.

He left Negan tucked away in a booth to order their coffee and pastries and by the time he came back, Negan was outside, bouncing on his heels, phone in hand.

“Got your coffee. And dirty muffin.” Rick eyed Negan’s phone. “Ah. You found a liquor store?”

“I want Kahlua, and I want it _in_ this shit.” Negan shook his latte in Rick’s face. “C’mon. It’s a block away.”

‘A block away’ turned out to be the five-minute walk back to their hotel, which in their sleepy stupor they’d failed to realize was right across from a liquor store. Negan bought a bottle of Kahlua while Rick chugged half his coffee, and back in their room-like responsible, law-abiding citizens- they gratuitously spiked their drinks.

“Never had Kahlua,” Rick said halfway through his cup, his head growing thick and fuzzy, body warm and lax. “I don’t drink a lot.”

“Better like that,” Negan said sagely, topping off his cup before taking Rick’s. “Cheaper. Now come with me, baby. There’s somethin’ I wanna show you.”

* * *

“ _Nee-gann_ -” Rick called after the boy trotting ahead of him. “Baby, I can’t-can’t keep up…” he laughed, belly full of liquor-laced coffee and sugar. He glanced around, the sky dark with nighttime and devoid of stars, but the city lights twinkled and caught his eye like celestial bodies. He felt _good_ \- happy and light and free, and the feeling only intensified when Negan came back into his orbit, hovering above him.

Rick pressed his face into the boy’s warm, solid chest, breathing him in. He smelled like coffee and faded cologne. “We’ve been walkin’ for hours, Negan.”

The boy’s laugh rumbled beneath Rick’s cheek. “Been walkin’ maybe twenty minutes, Rick.”

“Lies,” Rick accused. “Where you takin’ me, anyway?”

“Somewhere you’ll like. Now hop on, pretty boy. I’m not gonna let your drunk ass wander into the street.” Negan turned, squatting slightly, and Rick flung himself at the boy’s back gratefully, clinging tight as Negan piggybacked him down the street.

Luckily for Negan, they were close to where he was wanting to go, because Rick wasn’t nearly light enough for him to be carrying through Atlanta while tipsy and still clutching his paper coffee cup. The place he wanted to show Rick was easy to spot, standing out among the dull gray pavement in a literal rainbow of color.

“Holy _shit!_ ” Rick cried when he spotted it over Negan’s head, his chin resting atop mussed locks of black hair. “Is that…?”

“Yep! A fucking literal rainbow road! Or a sidewalk, anyway. They painted it here for pride last year and decided to leave it.” Negan beamed, hiking Rick up higher on his back and stepping into the empty street onto the pathway painted like the pride flag. “Fuckin’ amazing, right? I knew I had to take you here.” Rick wriggled down off Negan’s back and stepped out onto the road, grinning as he walked up and down the crosswalk. “I can’t tell if you’re not walkin’ straight because you’re drunk or if you’re tryin’ to be funny.”

Rick gave him a halfhearted glare. “I _am_ bein’ funny.” He sprawled out in the empty road, taking a quick peek both ways first. “Take my picture on the stairway to gay heaven.”

Negan laughed, fishing through his jacket pocket to get at his phone. “Yessir.” He snapped a couple photos of just Rick before flopping down beside him and insisting on one of the two of them smushed together in the frame, complete with a loud, wet smooch on Rick’s stubbly cheek.

“You’re slobberin’ all over me.” Rick rubbed at his cheek and let himself be tugged to his feet.

“You love it,” Negan replied. “Let me carry you back to our castle, baby.”

They made it less than a block before Negan had to set him down on his feet again. “I’m not _drunk_ ,” he insisted as they stepped over the threshold of their room. “I’m just…”

“Not in shape?” Rick suggested helpfully, earning himself a mutinous glare and Negan’s shirt thrown at his face. Well, he _supposed_ it was meant to be aimed at his face. It ended up sailing right over his head and onto the floor. _Not drunk my ass,_ Rick mused. 

“Fuck you.”

“Wish you would.” Rick sprawled languidly on the bed, shirt off, blue briefs hugging the curve of his dick, eyebrow arched suggestively. Rick watched Negan’s face change from teasing to aroused, and he was sure that if he’d listened close he could hear the sound of the older boy swallowing hard. _Gotcha_ , he grinned.

“Rick…”

Rick rolled over onto his belly, thumbs hooked into his underwear and legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “What better and gayer way to start off pride than with your dick in me?” he asked, and Negan was hard pressed to find a good answer to that.

Rick’s underwear was tugged down to his ankles.

“ _Fuck_ , Rick,” Negan groaned out, hands finding the boy’s trim hips and hiking them up.

“That’s the idea, yeah.” Negan gave him a playful nip on one cheek, and he yelped, squirming and laughing. “Bastard!”

“That’s not very nice, baby,” Negan taunted from behind while his fingers, slick with lube, worked in and out of Rick. “You oughta be nicer to me, fuckin’ you like this after I carried your drunk ass around like a goddamned pony.”

Rick rolled his eyes so hard he was sure he nearly saw the back of his skull, his huff of laughter turning into a moan as Negan pressed a third finger to him and pushed it in _deep_. “Y-yeah,” he gasped into the open air, “must be real hard for you, puttin’ your dick in me. Like you weren’t thinkin’ about it all the way here with me behind you. Like you haven’t been thinkin’ about fucking me ever since I walked in the door that first day.”

“Gettin’ cocky, Rick,” Negan noted, withdrawing his fingers. Rick waited until he felt Negan at his ear, leaning over him, his hard, thick cock pressed up against his ass. “ _I like that_ ,” he whispered, nipping at Rick’s earlobe, and Rick felt a shiver run from his neck all the way down to his toes.

“I know you do, baby,” he whispered back, and then he was rolling them over before Negan could think, and he had the taller boy pinned beneath him. Negan’s look of shock was more than gratifying- Rick almost wanted to grab for his phone and take a picture. Instead, he rose on his knees and reached back, taking Negan’s cock in his hand and getting him slick while the boy beneath him arched and moaned.

“You- you gonna ride me, cowboy?” he asked, his voice sweet and breathless. Rick nodded, lining his stretched opening up with Negan’s cock.

“That’s fucking right,” he crooned, and then he sank down, and they were both utterly lost from the moment Rick’s ass met Negan’s thighs.

 _God, he feels good. He looks good. And he’s mine, all fucking mine_ , Rick marveled as he rode Negan hard, clenching around him as he rose and sank and rolled his hips just to see how Negan writhed beneath him in breathless pleasure. The boy’s hand were everywhere, cupping Rick’s pecs and then stroking his dick in time with the brutal pace Rick had set, and then reaching back to grab Rick’s ass in his hands and squeeze him tight when he couldn’t focus on anything but the pleasure Rick as giving him.

“Mine,” Rick moaned as he worked himself over Negan’s cock. His hands stroked over Negan’s firm chest and belly. “Mine, mine, _mine_."

“Yours,” Negan agreed, helpless to do anything else. “ _Yours_ , Rick.” And then- “Rick, honey, I’m- oh, fuck-!” Negan’s hips rose and clashed with Rick’s frantically, and Rick felt him come hot and wet inside him, felt it drip out of him and down his thighs as he continued to ride Negan through it until he had reached his peak and released over Negan’s chest and belly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan murmured afterwards, “you make one sexy-ass cowboy, you know that? That one song finally makes sense to me.”

Rick, fucked out and sleepy with his face half-buried in Negan’s chest, asked before he could stop himself. “What song?”

That was a mistake.

“ _Saaave a hoorse, ride a coooboyyyy!_ ” Negan hollered at the top of his lungs, warbling so much it sounded like a yodel. Rick was fairly certain he heard someone in the next room over curse them both to hell and back.

“Well, tonight the cowboy rode you,” Rick pointed out. “Maybe tomorrow you can save the horses.”

“Mm-hm,” Negan agreed, sounding woozy as Rick felt. “Day out in the field’s gotta be hard work for a cowboy. Ropin’ the bulls. Chasin the…chickens…” he yawned, and Rick snorted into his fuzzy chest.

“What the hell are you sayin'? Chickens-?”

“The _cocks_ , Rick.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Negan clutched Rick to his chest like an oversized teddy bear. "Rick?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I may have been a little drunk."

* * *

“Oh god,” Rick muttered in Negan’s ear, “there’s a lot of people here.”

The club that Negan had taken them to was decked out in pride flags and flashing rainbow lights, the thump of bass so heavy that Rick could feel it in his teeth. People weren’t _quite_ packed in wall-to wall- Rick could spot a vague pathway to the crowded bar on the right- but the night was young.

“That’s the _point_ , Rick! It wouldn’t be much of a fucking party without people. C’mon, whatcha want to drink?” He tugged Rick toward the bar, hand in hand.

“Uh…beer?” Rick asked hopefully. Negan’s look of disapproval told him that he wasn’t going to be getting beer.

“You’re not getting a boring fucking Bud tonight, baby. If you wanted beer, I coulda bought that. Nah, we’re getting some gay-ass drinks. Uhh…here!” Negan swiped a slightly sticky menu off the floor. “How about a Flaming Cocksmack for you?”

Rick snorted and squeezed in close both to see the menu and avoid drunk dancers swaying to deafening techno. “A fucking _what_? That’s not _real_ \- oh. It is.” Rick blinked at the menu, trying to find something that didn’t sound too ridiculous. “Uh…”

“Hey, tell you what. I’ll order the first round, huh?” Negan tossed the menu onto the bar and squeezed in before Rick could object. Left alone in a room full of drunk, celebrating strangers, Rick wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Negan had dressed him in a loose-fitting tanktop that looked vaguely sparkly and a pair of tight black shorts, insisting that despite the chill outside, Rick wouldn’t want long pants when they started dancing.

Right now, he really wished that his tank top’s armholes didn’t dip so low that his whole left tit was in danger of falling out. Not that that would be the most risqué thing happening in the club- just within a few feet of him there were men of all sizes and shapes in nothing but jockstraps and booty shorts, dancing footloose and fancy-free without a care in the world. There were girls whose breasts bounced unhindered beneath their shirts, bras joyously forgone. Some people were dressed in leather and straps that made Rick blush…and wonder how Negan could look wrapped in them.

The DJ up on the stage was donning a rainbow of dreadlocks that swayed as she jammed to her own mix, a multicolored flag draped around her. Everyone here seemed so joyful, so uninhibited. It wasn’t just the alcohol, though that was flowing freely like it was on tap in the bathrooms. No, it was the atmosphere, alive in the very air and flowing through the speakers like the bump and thrum of the music.

He liked it here, he just wasn’t sure where to start. Did he just…dance?

“Rick! Gotcha a drink!” Negan’s arm curled around his waist from behind, and a shot glass was pressed into Rick’s waiting hand. Negan was holding an identical one, the liquid looking strangely like chocolate milk and topped with a dollop of spray whipped cream.

“What is this?” he asked curiously, taking a whiff. It smelled a bit like their coffee had last night.

“It’s called a creamy blowjob,” Negan said with a lascivious grin. “Drink up, baby. I _know_ you know how to handle some cream.”

Rick laughed and clinked his shot to Negan’s before downing it. It was tasty- better than it looked, that pleasant burn in the back of his throat undercut by the sweetness of the whipped cream. Negan had white clinging to his lower lip, and Rick felt something warm and wanting stir low in his belly.

“You got somethin’…” he murmured, leaning in and licking it up with a wet, open kiss. He tugged on the boy’s lower lip with his teeth and felt Negan’s groan rumble through him, felt his hands slide to his hips and pull him closer.

“You sexy bitch,” Negan growled into his ear, “come fucking dance with me.”

Rick followed Negan out into the crowd, nerves overtaking his brief moment of flirtatious bravery. “Negan, I’m, uh…I’m not much of a dancer. Not this kinda dancing, anyway.” His eyes darted to the people bumping and grinding around them. “I’m not sure how to, uh…”

Negan’s hands, warm and steady, slid into place on Rick’s hips as he situated himself behind, their bodies pressed flush together. Rick felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Negan’s dick pressed up against him from behind, the position all too familiar. “Just follow my lead, baby. I’ll show you.” Negan began to sway to the beat, hips rolling up into Rick’s backside. “I _know_ you know how to do this. Just pretend we’re in bed.” Rick shuddered, hips tentatively moving to Negan’s easy rhythm. It was impossible to do anything but follow along when Negan sounded like that, growling low and sexy in his ear as he ground against him. “Just like that, Rick. _Fuck_ , yeah…”

Rick let his head fall back against Negan’s shoulder, hands reaching for the boy behind him. Negan was his refuge in the sea of people around them, everything else fading into the background in favor of the roll of their bodies against one another.

He wasn’t sure how long they danced like that, front to back, Negan slowly growing hard against his ass. All he knew was that one moment Negan’s hand was on his belly, making his thin tank top ride up and showing off a strip of toned stomach, and the next Negan’s hand was on his crotch, kneading the hardness that had swelled there. “Havin’ fun, honey? Sure fucking feels like you are.”

Rick groaned throatily, hips arching up into Negan’s palm. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be acting like this in public, but he felt utterly lost in the crowd and in Negan. He heard himself whine at the loss when Negan released him and spun him around so that they were chest to chest, and immediately he ground his hips forward into the taller boy’s to get that sweet friction back. “ _Tease_ ,” he accused with a kiss on the boy’s smirking lips. 

“Baby, you _know_ I don’t start shit I don’t plan on finishin’. But you don’t really expect me to put out without you buyin’ me a fucking drink first, you do?” Negan’s glitter-and-kohl-rimmed eyes twinkled mischievously as his hands kneaded Rick’s ass through his shorts.

“Whatcha want?” Rick asked. He hated to leave now- he was finally getting the hang of dancing. He couldn't keep his eyes off of Negan's lips, picturing them wrapped around him-

“Blowjob,” Negan said with a smirk, and Rick shivered.

“Where?”

“In my mouth, Rick, where else?”

“No, I mean…where would we…?”

Negan barked a laugh. “I _know_ you’re not this drunk off one shot!”

Rick’s cheeks burned. _Oh, right. The shots._ _Not that._

Blushing furiously and praying that nobody noticed the sizable bulge in the front of his tiny shorts, Rick elbowed his way to the bar and choked out, “two blowjobs, please,” to the bartender, who looked at him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy for his own embarrassed stutter.

It was when he turned around, shots in hand, that he realized that he had no clue where Negan was.

“Dammit,” he muttered, “where the hell-”

“Rick! Over here!” Rick craned his neck to see Negan off to the side, waving frantically. Rick wove carefully through, shots over his head, and realized when he reached Negan that he wasn’t alone. A familiar-looking girl with wild, dark curls and a shit that read _Vagetarian_ across the chest stood close to him, and Rick’s stomach swooped unpleasantly. He barely registered the clink of Negan’s glass against his. “You’ll never fuckin’ guess who I ran into while I was lookin’ for you-”

“Lucille,” Rick said softly.

“He’s told you about me, then,” Lucille said with a winsome grin. She was even prettier than her picture had let on, Rick couldn’t help but think. Beautiful, and with a good six inches on him in height, and teeth so white she should’ve been in a goddamned Colgate commercial.

“Yeah,” Rick answered weakly, “a little.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know anything about you- Negan and I don’t keep in touch. I haven’t seen him in _ages_.”

“Hasn’t been that long,” Negan objected, and Rick felt faintly nauseous. He downed the shot, hoping it could chase down the bad feelings along with the bile in his throat. _She’s prettier than me._

Lucille shoved Negan's shoulder. “Been a while! You haven’t seen me since I got engaged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were jealous.” They both laughed, and Rick felt his stomach flip over. He bit his tongue, wanting to distract from the terrified pang in his chest as he watched Negan laugh easily with the girl he used to date- used to _love_.

_He doesn’t love me. He’s never said it._

“So how’d you two meet?” Lucille asked, eyes on Rick again. She wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup save for the spectral highlight sparking on her high cheekbones, and suddenly Rick felt like a clown standing there in in the eyeliner and glitter and skimpy clothes that Negan had talked him into. He’d felt so sexy in them earlier when it had just been him and Negan in their hotel room and Negan had been practically drooling on him, but now it felt like too much, like it was obvious that he was trying too hard.

“We’re roommates at school,” Rick answered.

“Roommates with benefits,” Negan chimed in, slinging an arm around Rick’s waist and pulling him close. Normally his touch grounded Rick, made him feel safe and stable, but now all Rick could see is the mere inches of space between Negan’s shoulder and Lucille’s.

“I’m surprised you’re so friendly,” Rick interjected suddenly before he could stop himself. He could see the mistake in his words already by the questioning looks on both their faces, but he kept going, insecurity and alcohol mixing poorly. “Considering he cheated on you and all. Why do you even wanna talk to him?”

Negan shifted uncomfortably beside him, pulling his arm away. “Rick, what the fuck?”

Lucille frowned slightly. “We were friends a long time. We were together a long time. I loved him, and I still care about him. He knows that what he did was fucked up, and we’ve both moved on. I didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

 _Fuck. You idiot, she thinks you’re a crazy jealous boyfriend…except he doesn’t even call you his boyfriend._ “It’s not a problem!” Rick said a little too quickly. “It’s not. Not at all. I was just, you know. Wonderin’.” They were both giving him funny looks now, and Rick felt his face heat up, sweat prickling at his skin despite his light attire. “It’s good to meet you though, Lucille. Really. Good to see you in person. I mean, I recognized you immediately. I see your picture on his wall every time I’m in his room.”

He heard Negan make an irritated sound beside him. “ _Rick_.”

Rick cocked his head at him, all false innocence. _Don’t do this. Don’t fuck everything up_ , he screamed at himself even as he spoke. “What? You don’t want her to know that?”

A muscle jumped in Negan’s jaw like he was gritting his teeth. Rick had never seen him like that before- angry with _him_. He’d seen it directed at Negan's friends when they were being assholes, or teachers when they sprung last-minute assignments on him, or the frat guys that they’d pranked…but never him. Even that first night, it had all been bravado and annoyance at most. “I don’t have a problem with her knowing that, Rick. I kept that photo of you and me at Pride,” he explained to Lucille, “because it was the only picture of me at my first Pride.”

They had that look again, both of them, a shared look between them. Rick wasn’t sure what he saw there. Annoyance? Anger? Pity? None of those were things he wanted directed at him.

“I’m…I’m gonna go get a drink,” Rick muttered, pulling away from their little corner. He retreated back into the crowd before he could hear their replies, seeking the bar like an oasis in the chaotic desert that was the club.

“So I’m just gonna be honest here,” Rick said when the bartender reached him, “I don’t drink enough to know the names of shit, I just want somethin’ that’ll get me drunk.”

The bartender chuckled, grabbing a few bottles off the shelf. “I can do that.”

* * *

Rick was having a _fantastic_ time.

As it turned out, being drunk in a sea of friendly queer strangers was the best way to be drunk. He’d been drinking wrong all along. It was much easier to forget about Negan and pretty Lucille while he was dancing with drag queens and taking rainbow jello shots with a group of friendly lesbians that had protectively herded him away from a rather handsy older guy in full bdsm gear.

“These shots…are gay,” Rick whispered conspiratorially to the redheaded girl beside him. She and her girlfriend both burst into laughter.

“They sure are, honey,” she agreed. “What’d you say your name was?”

“It’s-”

“Rick!”

Rick and the women all turned around to see Negan barreling through the crowd toward them. Rick’s stomach swooped immediately, and that only made him feel worse. How long had it been since he’d dreaded seeing Negan?

“Rick!” Negan’s hands were on his shoulders, in his hair like he was checking for damage. “Rick, baby, I was so fucking worried, Lucy and I have been lookin’ all over for you-” he paused, taking in Rick’s glazed eyes and distant attitude. “Are you drunk? You look fucking wasted.”

“Very!” Rick crowed proudly. “I had…I dunno. A _lot_. Had…somethin’ at the bar to make me drunk, and then some shots…and then some-s’more shots…” Negan looked worried- why did he look worried? He’d been too busy with _Lucy_ -

“Rick, you fucking _idiot_ , you could have been…fuck, just because it’s pride doesn’t mean it’s safe for you to go wanderin’ around drunk on your own! Jesus, you could have…someone could have…” Negan swallowed thickly and tried to pull Rick into his arms only to be shoved roughly away.

“Go hug _Lucy_ , why don’tcha?” Rick bit out, snatching another rainbow shot off the tray sitting on the table and chugging it. Negan’s face twisted into something ugly for a moment, anger marring his handsome face before he relaxed again.

“Rick, you’re drunk. I think it’s time to fucking go.”

“No! He- _hell_ no, I’m havin’ a good time! Or I _was_ , before _you_ showed up.” Rick felt the burn of alcohol rise a little too high in his throat and choked it back. _Fuck…fuck, I’m good, I’m…_

“Rick, c’mon, you don’t look so good, alright?” Negan sounded so tired. Sad. _Did I make him sad? Fuck, shit, I made him sad…_ “C’mon, baby. C’mere. We’re gonna get some air, alright?”

“Ri..right…” Rick slurred, feet stumbling as they tried to make their way through the crowd to the exit. “Fuck…I can’t- Negan, I’m…’m sorry…” The room was spinning hard out from under him, the neon lights now making him dizzy and nauseous. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and thought he heard people distantly shouting around him. Were they yelling at him? Was Negan yelling at him? He didn’t want Negan to be mad…

“Rick, Rick, c’mon, baby, you're almost there, okay?” Rick could see streetlights up ahead, could feel himself being carried.

“Mm-kay,” he mumbled, turning his face into the warmth surrounding him. “’M sorry.”

“You don’t gotta be sorry, baby.”

“I do… _ohgodohgod_ put me down I’m gonna-” Rick squirmed out of Negan’s arms just in time to puke onto the sidewalk and not Negan’s chest. “ _Oh, fuck_ ,” he groaned weakly, stomach heaving. Negan was beside him in an instant, rubbing his back and watching for cars.

“I’m gonna call a cab, alright? There’s no way we’re gonna be able to walk back. We’ll be back the room soon, okay, Rick? Shit, fuck…”

“I’m sorry…” Rick whimpered, tears in his eyes as he vomited again, arms shaking violently. “I’m…I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, Rick. C’mon. Just focus on getting that shit outta you right now, alright?” Negan kept rubbing his back, his hand a warm, constant reminder that _I’m here, you’re okay_.

Rick didn’t remember the cab ride back, nor did he remember how he ended up on the bathroom floor of their motel room, heaving the last of the shots into the toilet bowl. After a while of helpless dry-heaving, Rick curled up on the dirty tile floor, drenched in sweat. “I hate puking,” he proclaimed in a weak mumble, his parting wisdom.

Negan flushed the mess away and held out a cold bottle of water to Rick’s parched lips. “I don’t think anybody _likes_ puking, Rick. Drink up.”

“Nooo,” Rick moaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes closed. “No more. Can’t drink anymore, Negan…”

“It’s water, dumbass. You’ll thank me in the morning when your hangover’s only got you wanting to kill other people and not yourself. Drink a little.”

“Can’t,” Rick mumbled sleepily. He could feel consciousness fading away, and all he wanted was to chase that sweet oblivion right into the bliss of nothingness for a few hours. “Sorry…’m sorry, Negan…”

* * *

When Rick woke, it was slow and to vague, strange memories that he wasn’t sure if he dreamed or not. Did he throw up? He thought he remembered throwing up, apologizing over and over. He remembered a big guy in a leather mask and straps groping him while he tried to pull away…surely that wasn’t real? No, none of it was real. It didn’t _feel_ real-but then how did he end up back in bed? He remembered drinking some horrible thing that the bartender gave him, and then dancing…

“Oh, god,” he groaned, his voice loud in his own ears. “I fucked up.”

Negan’s laugh pealed light and amused from across the room. “You sure as shit did.”

“Fuck,” Rick cracked and eye and immediately closed it again, retreating further underneath the thin motel sheets to hide from the near-blinding light. “What’d I do? Did I puke? I feel like I puked.” He opened his eyes again once under the safety of the blankets and glanced down at himself. “Where are my clothes?”

Negan flopped down on the bed beside Rick, hand patting him on the ass through the blankets. “You puked all over yourself. Plus you were swimming in sweat. So I took ‘em off. I tried to get you in some boxers but you curled into a ball and told me to fuck off.”

Rick rubbed his throbbing temples. “Christ. I’m so sorry, Negan-”

“Honey,” Negan’s voice was gentle now, sympathetic and soothing, “You gotta stop apologizing. That’s all you did last night. It was puke, sniffle, apologize. Rinse and repeat. I know you’re sorry. You wanna come out of your fucking cocoon?”

 _Not really, because then I’ll have to look at you and every stupid thing I did and said last night will be real_ , Rick thought, but he did it anyway, scooting out and peering at Negan from beneath his nest of blankets. The boy looked much more put-together than Rick felt he would ever be capable of again. His hair wet from the shower and he still had the leftover remnants of smoky makeup around his tired eyes. Rick wondered briefly if it was possible to be swallowed entirely by shame.

“I really fucked up last night,” Rick whispered. “With…Lucille.” He saw Negan’s expression grow weary and guarded at the mention of Lucille’s name, and Rick had to bite his tongue to stem the flow of apologies all over again. “I got insecure, and then I got jealous, and I know that…that I shouldn’t have. I said stupid shit that I shouldn’t have said.”

“Yeah,” Negan agreed, “you did.”

“I’m not gonna make excuses. I’m not. You weren’t doin’ anything wrong, talking to her. Hell, if I’d seen Lori there, I’d have talked to her.”

“And I wouldn’t have had a problem with that,” Negan said, frowning. “You know I’m not…you know I wouldn’t cheat on you, right, Rick? I mean, I know I fucked up with Lucille, but I learned from that shit. I’d never do that shit again, not to anyone and _definitely_ not to you.”

Rick swallowed hard. He wanted to ask Negan then- _why? Do you love me? Are we boyfriends, because you didn’t call me that last night._ But all of that sounded so needy, so insecure and childish, and the last thing he wanted after the fool he’d made of himself last night was to seem even more pathetic. “I know,” he said instead. “I didn’t- it wasn’t even that I thought you were going to do anything with her. I just saw her and it kinda hit me that she’s this big important person in your life-”

“She _was_. Just like I was to her. But she’s happy now, Rick. She’s engaged- that’s what we were talking about last night, by the way. I was asking her about her fiancée. She was askin’ me about you. We’re happy for each other. I can’t tell you I don’t care about her anymore, if that’s what you want to hear, because I do. I’ll always care about her, because she was important to me for a real long time. But I’m not in love with her anymore. I’d never turn around and do to you what I did to her, and god knows she’d knock me into next week if I tried.”

Rick chuckled weakly. “I’m sorry. For overeating. And makin’ you both uncomfortable and ruining our night. And puking.”

Negan sighed and crawled up the bed to pull Rick gently into his arms. Rick went gratefully, willingly, eating up the affection that he didn’t feel he deserved and tucking his face into Negan’s chest. “I’ve never gotten that drunk before. Like…where I blacked out and forgot stuff. I hate that you saw me like that.” The admission felt like too much and too little all at once, but it was the only thing he could manage. He’d been vulnerable enough in the last day to last him a good long while.

“Sucks, don’t it?” Negan hummed, kissing the top of Rick’s head and rubbing down his aching spine with his knuckles. “It’s okay, though. Seriously, I don’t want you to be embarrassed about that shit. I’m sure at some point you’ll see me like that. I’m surprised you haven’t already. Though, you’ve seen me do some pretty dumb shit while I’m drunk.”

Rick could easily recall their first night as roommates. “Yeah. That’s true. But…will you tell me a drunk Negan story anyway? To make me feel like less of an idiot?”

Negan laughed and nodded. “Fine. You’ve got me fuckin’ whipped, you know that? Alright, first time I got blackout drunk. I was at a bar with a friend, and this was before I drank a lot, right? So I didn’t really know my limit, and neither did he. So he just kept orderin’ me these cocktails. I didn’t know what the hell was in them, all I knew was that they tasted like fuckin’ Gatorade, so I drank three. In less than an hour. And it wasn’t like these were little martini glasses, either. These were soda cups full of liquor I was chugging.”

“Oh, god.”

“Yeah. So we’re playin’ pool, right? And I’m having more and more trouble hitting the ball, and I drop my cue a couple times, stumble a little…and I’m thinking, _no, it’s alright, I’m good_.”

Sounded familiar. “And then?” Rick prompted.

“And then I woke up the next morning in Simon’s bed- I didn’t sleep with him!” Negan assured him. “Simon’s just a bro like that. And I didn’t remember a damn thing between playing pool and getting in his bed. The friend I’d gone to the bar with wasn’t there, and I was like ‘what the actual fuck?’ Simon filled me in. Turns out I’d started puking at the bar- in the bathroom, and then outside in the bushes, and my friend had gotten me in the car and I was wearing a trashbag like a damn raincoat to save me and the car from the puke. Except he didn’t know where to take me at first, so he took me to Waffle House.”

Rick yelped out a laugh that made his head feel like it was going to burst. “Waffle House? He took your drunk, pukey ass to the damn _Waffle House?_ What, he had a hankering for hash browns?”

Negan was laughing then, purring under Rick like a contented cat. “No, no, see the friend I’d been out with, Gavin? He worked at Waffle House. Well, he’d worked at a _lot_ of Waffle Houses, actually. They kept bouncing him from store to store, so he had friends all across the tri-state area. So apparently- and I have no memory of this at all, but Gavin swears up and down that this happened- he dragged me into Waffle House at two in the goddamned morning and one of his ex-coworkers helped him clean me up a little, and then he drove me home. Except he couldn’t get me up the front steps, so he had to call in Simon for reinforcements, but Simon lives ten minutes away. So he drove me to Simon’s and they got me in bed and I woke up completely disoriented. Oh, and I missed class that day.”

Rick jerked up in bed as something occurred to him then, his head and stomach protesting all the way. “Shit, _shit!_ What time is it?”

Negan quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s fucking nine am, Rick. On a Sunday. You’re not missin’ class.”

“No, but the parade!” That was what he’d wanted to go to the most. “What time’s it start? Ten?”

Negan nodded. “Yeah. But baby…aren’t you hungover? You should be, you wouldn’t drink any water last night.”

Rick’s stomach felt both hollowed out and like it was being squeezed in a vice, and his head was pounding like a drum. “Yeah. I feel like shit…but I really wanted to go.” Yet another reason he shouldn’t have been such an idiot last night. The remorse was piling up by the second, but Negan didn’t look deterred in the least. In fact, he looked downright renewed with a fresh was of determination.

“Alright, Rick. Get ready to fucking rock pride right onto its freshly waxed ass, because I’m gonna cure that fucking hangover and get you to that parade looking pretty as the goddamned peach you are.” He leapt off the bed, pulling on his boots and jacket and ushering Rick slowly into the bathroom as if worried he would jump-start the vomiting reflex again. “What I need you to do is take a nice shower, brush your teeth, and drink these.” He set two bottles on the cramped bathroom counter- one of water and one of strawberry Gatorade. “All of it, and don’t wait 'til the last second. Start in on that shit right now, and if you puke it up…just keep going.”

“Oh, god,” Rick moaned, but he obeyed, cracking the cap on the Gatorade and sipping. “My stomach is so pissed at me right now.”

Negan dropped to his knees in a flash, kissing Rick’s bare belly over and over and nuzzling the trail of sparse hair that led down to his groin. “Don’t be a bitch, alright?” he said against Rick’s skin. “I’ve gotta get my boy to pride, so buck the fuck up.”

“Are you talkin’ to my stomach?”

“Hell yes I am.” Negan’s smile shone up at him. “Now get your cute ass in the shower, and mentally prepare yourself for the fact that when you get out, I’m gonna make you eat real food.”

“Negan, noooo-”

“Rick, yes! You’ve gotta get some grease and meat in you to soak up the alcohol, and for once that’s not a metaphor. Now let’s get crackin’! We’ve got an hour.”

* * *

Forty-seven minutes, two bottles of water, a handful of Tylenol, and a couple of Hardee’s sausage biscuits later, Rick was feeling much more like himself. He was donning his normal clothes today, though with the addition of one of Negan’s hoodies with _I’m here, I’m queer_ in big, splashy neon print across the front. It was breezy outside, the cool autumn wind blowing his damp hair dry and wild around his face.

Beside him, pan pride scarf tucked beneath his leather jacket and wearing the proudest grin in the world, Negan shone, and Rick had never felt honored to be by the boy’s side.

“Here.” Negan dropped a small plastic package of foam earplugs into Rick’s warm palm. “Got these at the corner store while I was pickin' up breakfast. You’ll still be able to hear fucking _everything_ , trust me on that, but it’ll help with the noise.” Rick eagerly put them in when they closed in on the crowd, weaving their way through cheering and whooping people to find a halfway decent place to see the parade.

It was easy to tell when the parade started. Before Rick could even spot anyone coming up the street, he could hear the shouts and whoops and blares of music. He bounced excitedly on his heels, trying to see over the heads of people in front of them. “Negan! Holy _shit_!”

“I know, babe!” Negan shouted back, squeezing his hand tight. “You wanna get on my back?”

Rick nodded eagerly, and clambered onto Negan’s back with his arms looped loosely around his neck, letting the boy lift him up. It was only an extra foot or so in height, but it did the trick: charging up the street was the most colorful crowd of people Rick had ever seen. There were men in suspenders and tulle skirts, women in gaudy rainbow pinstriped suits and dyed hair, people of every gender and race imaginable all draped in pride flags. There were people up at the front tossing wristbands into the crowd as they waved banners, drag kings and queens so garishly made up that Rick wondered how early they’d had to wake up to get ready. Men danced in skimpy shorts and underwear on floats, and Rick felt Negan poke him in the thigh, could feel the boy grinning up at him. Lesbians of all ages rode out on thunderous motorcycles for the self-proclaimed _Dyke March_ , and the rumble of engines had Rick longing for a long drive with Negan on the winding Georgia backroads.

He loved it here. Loved every second of it, all the colors and shouts and tinsel in the air shot from every direction, loved the way he felt at home in this crowd and not so lost like he had last night. He’d spent so much of the morning feeling shitty that he’d ruined his and Negan’s night out, but now, being here, it was impossible to do anything but just feel _good_ , bone-deep, soul-level good.

He slid down off of Negan’s shoulders after a little while, not wanting him to get too exhausted trying to hold him up, and found himself drawing Negan close, hands on either side of the boy’s face, the words that he hadn’t even known he’d needed to say suddenly lodged in his throat.

_I love you._

He knew he did, and somehow he also knew that he’d loved Negan before just now. He couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment when it had happened, he just _knew_ it, as surely as he knew his own name.

But he couldn’t get it out. Even now, feeling as free and blissful as he did, he couldn’t put himself on the line that much, so he simply pulled Negan close and kissed him. He tried to put everything he was too scared to say into the kiss, every apology and insecurity he was too afraid to give voice to, every bit of love and lust and longing that he felt for the boy that had shown him so much in the short time they’d been together. He licked into Negan’s mouth, palms prickling with the feeling of stubbly cheeks, body alive with the feeling of Negan so warm and hard and close to him, of the feeling of being so open and unabashed.

When he pulled away, his lips felt warm and tingly, and he felt Negan whisper something in soft puffs of breath.

“What?” he asked, cocking his head up at Negan, but Negan shook his head, smiling faintly.

“Just said that you’re fucking gorgeous, darlin’,” he said loud enough for Rick to hear through the earplugs. There was something in his eyes- something that made Rick think that he’d said something different the first time, but he let it go. He didn’t think Negan had said anything bad- there was something so honest and sweet in his eyes that made Rick feel utterly at peace. He wrapped his arms around Negan’s waist, laying his head on the boy’s chest and feeling the soothing beat of his heart beneath his cheek.

After the parade, when the crowd began to dissipate, Rick found himself being dragged along by Negan until they found a small booth selling pride flags of all kinds, some of which Rick had never even seen. Negan pulled out his wallet, casting a glance at Rick. “You bi or pan, baby? Can’t believe I’ve never asked you that, I feel like an ass.”

“Uh…bi. Wh-Negan, you don’t have to-” But Negan was already forking over a ten and colleting a long sheath of fabric.

“I fucking _want_ to, Rick. C’mere. I’m gonna get some photos of you. Pose for me, blue boy.”

He was helpless to resist Negan then, so he posed, flag around him like a toga and then held out between himself and Negan when Negan asked a passerby to take a shot of both of them. He realized after, as they were walking back to their motel so he could get some rest and sleep off the last remnants of his hangover, that the photo they’d taken together was nearly a mirror image of Negan’s photo with Lucille that hung proudly on his wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u @ everyone who leaves feedback, it fuels me in the long hours of staring at microsoft word. i live off comments and coffee.


	17. Won't Look Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shows up with an update 15 min late with coffee i spilled all over myself while editing this. i swear i was planning on keeping a weekly schedule but i've been down fic rabbit trails for the last couple weeks

Rick found himself sleeping in more and more on weekends, if only to leech the warmth from Negan's solid, sleeping form like a vampire of body heat. 

The morning sex wasn't bad, either.

Even today, when they'd both decided they needed a shower from last night's fun, they just ended up back in bed, hair damp and curling at the ends, bodies already flushed and naked from the hot water. Rick had been bound and determined to take charge since he'd woken up half-hard from a rapidly dissipating wet dream, but as soon as they both had wriggled their way back under the covers his plans got lost somewhere in the warm curve of Negan's mouth as they kissed. Now he was on his belly and Negan was behind him, hands roaming over smooth muscle and soft skin with all the explorative slowness of a cartographer charting his course. 

Rick tried to push up off the bed, tried to roll over so he could get his hands on Negan and stop the man from continuing his relentless staring. He could feel himself getting flushed, heat creeping down his neck and ears. Negan’s hands rubbed over the curve of his ass, spreading him apart, and Rick buried his face in his arms to hide the way his face was heating up.

"You're pretty _everywhere_ , Rick. How's that fucking fair?" Rick and exhaled a shaky laugh at Negan's words, relaxing into the exposure and anticipating slick fingers pushing inside of him.

They didn’t come. Instead, what he felt was breath against tender skin and then something warm and wet moving against his opening, and there was absolutely no way to hold back the shocked noise that came out of him because _oh my god, Negan is really doing that_.

Breathing no longer seemed like an option. He was pretty sure his face was tomato-red, and the small, breathy noises he was making were barely more than whimpers. He was also pretty sure that Negan was laughing quietly behind him, but he couldn’t hear it over the thrum of his own heartbeat in his ears. He _felt_ it, though. He felt it wet and rumbling against his sensitive flesh as Negan’s tongue worked him, warm hands still gripping the soft plumpness of Rick’s ass, and Rick grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets, the headboard, _anything_ , and found himself sinking his teeth into his forearm trying to will himself to _stop making those ridiculous fucking sounds_.

Except then Negan’s tongue, insistent against him, pushed _inside_ and Rick’s hips gave an involuntary jerk forward, rubbing his aching cock against the mattress and all he could think was _fuck, fuck, fuck-_ which he was pretty sure was what he was screaming into the pillow as he came hard with Negan’s tongue buried inside him. The wetness of his release spilled between his stomach and the sheets, his body trembling as he came down from the high. He was aware of the sandpaper scrape of Negan's stubble against his ass as the boy kissed him there over and over, and if Rick had glanced over his shoulder he would have caught sight of a self-satisfied smirk plastered across Negan's face. 

“Je- _sus_ , Rick! I was not expecting that. Fuck.” Rick let his head drop down onto the sheets, which felt almost cool against his burning face. Negan released his hold on him and slid up beside him on the narrow bed, looking down at him with an amused expression when Rick turned his head to the side. “Holy shit on a buttermilk biscuit, Rick! What an absolute ride. Best fucking ride I’ve been on in a damn long time, too. Sure as hell wish it was one of those rides where they give you the souvenir pictures on the way out the door. You know, the ones they take _at just the right moment_ , where your mouth’s wide open and you’re screaming your fucking face off? Yeah. Wish I could have gotten a picture of _that_. ”

Rick refused to hide his face in the sheets again, even though he desperately wanted to. “Fuck you.”

Negan laughed. “Well, fuck, baby, that sure as shit was the plan, wasn’t it? You were just about inside me while I was shampooing. Guess that’s not gonna be happening now, the way you fucking creamed yourself over my tongue in your ass. _Fuck_ , I really thought you were gonna tell me to fuck off with that shit. You done that before?”

Rick glared at him. “No.”

Negan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, boy, _Rick_! I just get to be all kinds of firsts for you, don’t I? You wanna make me a list? _Rick Grimes’ Top Fifty Things He Hasn’t Done In Bed But Is Going To Let Negan Do To Him?_ ”

Rick, despite himself, snorted. “Fifty things?”

Negan gave him a look of mock solemnity. “Yes, Rick. Fifty things. And if you can’t think of fifty, that just goes to show how fucking repressed you really are. Don’t you fucking worry your pretty little head about it, though. I’ll finish it off if you come up short.”

“You’re an ass.”

“An ass that just made you come by tongue-punching your balloon knot,” Negan quipped, and Rick groaned. 

“Never, _never_ call it that again. Jesus.” Sometimes the shit that came out of Negan's mouth still managed to surprise him. He wondered if that would always be the case. 

“No fucking promises, Rick. Now, seeing as you’re all loosened up and ready to ride, how about I take you for a fucking spin? Maybe if you can control yourself next time, you can fuck me.”

Rick’s eyes spat fire, and in lieu of answering, he shoved Negan back onto the bad and crawled up his body, straddling his hips. Negan eyed him hungrily, looking like he was about to grab Rick’s hips and try to take over from there.

_Like hell is that happening, you cocky asshole._

Rick grabbed the lube from where it lay on the nightstand and poured some into his palm, taking Negan’s cock in hand. He took some satisfaction in the way Negan looked with him working his length: mouth hanging open on soft groans, hips bucking into the contact. He gave Negan a taunting squeeze before he released him and rose up on his knees. His hands slid back to Negan’s thighs, arching his back as he slid down onto the slick length. He smirked down at Negan when the other man was fully sheathed inside him, hoping that he looked less undone than he felt. Negan’s fingers bit into his thighs before sliding around to grip at his ass.

“ _Fuck_ , Rick,” Negan shook out below him, “Look so fucking good. I’m gonna make you come all over again.”

“We’ll see,” Rick smirked and planted on hand firmly in the center of Negan’s chest, experimentally rocking his hips to see what kind of sounds he could draw out of the man beneath him. Negan moaned and arched his hips up into Rick, meeting his slow, grinding thrusts. Wide hands roamed over Rick’s ass, squeezing and pulling him forward as they moved together.

 _Yeah_ , Rick thought in the afterglow- Negan had managed to make him come again after all- _the morning sex isn't bad at all._

* * *

Being back home after a rollercoaster weekend at pride was a bit of a bummer, but Rick found some comfort in the little things- having Noodle back to cuddling with him every chance she got, seeing Carol again, being able to escape to his room for some peace and quiet every once and a while.

There was no peace and quiet tonight, though, because Simon was in their living room with four other guys knocking back beer and trying to convince Negan to let them use their dorm for a party.

“Why can’t you do it in yours? It was just fucking fine last week,” Negan complained, chucking an empty beer can at Simon’s head. “Is it because that one guy took a piss in your sock drawer?”

Simon scowled, looking faraway and scheming as he contemplated the fate of the sock drawer pisser if he ever caught him at it. “It wasn’t the first time he’s pissed somewhere weird while he’s drunk! But that’s not it.”

Negan rolled his eyes and Rick ran his fingers through the boy’s hair where he was laying in his lap. “Sure it’s not.”

“It’s because our hall’s RA got onto me about the noise and I know for a fact that yours is a stoner that doesn’t notice anything that’s not a nice fat blunt, because I can smell it on him every time he manages to leave his room to clear the vending machine out of flamin' hot Cheetos. He hasn’t noticed that you two have a goddamn cat in here, for fuck’s sake!”

Negan peered up at Rick sheepishly. “He does have a point.”

Rick snorted. “About Jim being a stoner?”

“No, about having the party here. Would you mind if we did?”

Rick leaned down and planted a kiss on Negan’s lips. “Nah, go ahead. I think I’ll take Noodle to Carol’s with me, though. I don’t want her gettin’ loose. And, ah. If you could try to keep the drunk pissing guy out of my room, that’d be great.”

“You're not gonna stay?” Negan asked, tipping his chin up for another kiss, and Rick was helpless to resist pleas for affection from those big hazel eyes. “I know you’ve been kinda sick of goin’ out every other night. I’d like you to- but you don’t have to. Just know that I'll gladly take you if you stay.”

One of the things Rick enjoyed about his relationship with Negan was that felt he was free to tell the other boy _no_ without guilt. Usually he agonized over yesses and nos for as long as he could, and half the time he’d end up saying yes to things he knew he wouldn’t enjoy, but with Negan it was easier to say, _no, I want to stay in_ , or _I need some time to myself tonight._

Rick shook his head. “Nah. I’m sorry, you know I’m not much of a party guy, and I feel like when I stay you stick with me too much.”

“No such thing. I’m stuck on you, baby blue.” Negan could be charming when he wanted. When he wasn’t being obnoxious. And even then, Rick thought- he was cute. He loved that about him.

“Go hang out with your friends. I’ve been missin’ Carol, anyway.” Rick kissed him once on the forehead. “Let me up, you goon. I need to make sure there’s nothing important in my room that the mad pisser can ruin.”

* * *

Saturday nights spent playing air hockey and drinking cheap wine in the Alexandria Hall rec room with Carol were far preferable to Saturday nights spent trying to dodge some of the people who came to Negan’s parties. Not that they were all bad- they just didn't mesh well with Rick's more reserved nature, and he could only hear the question "why are you so quiet?" a finite many times before he snapped.

“So it doesn’t bother you that he’s there without you?” Carol asked as she topped off both their cups. Neither of them were wine connoisseurs- they had wandered the wine and beer aisle for fifteen minutes trying to figure out what they might like before grabbing a the biggest, cheapest bottle they could find that wasn't labelled _extra dry_. “I figured, you know. After the Lucille incident…”

Rick rubbed a hand over his face, embarrassed even though the incident was a week removed from him. “God, I wish I could just fucking forget that forever. Why couldn’t I forget _that_ part of the night?” He sipped at his wine, wrinkling his nose at the taste, and retrieved the puck from where Carol had made it fly halfway across the room and behind a sagging, beer-stained couch that had seen better days. “But no, it doesn’t. I know the people there just enough to know that Negan’s not interested in them. I went to a few parties with him. They were…okay.”

They weren’t his scene, but he was okay with that. He’d already known going in that it may not be his thing, a crowded room full of strangers. He liked it better with Negan than he had the times he’d gone to parties with Shane years back, but he knew he was keeping Negan from socializing the way he usually would with his friends by hanging around him all night.

“It’s good to have some time apart. I’ve heard it’s healthy,” Carol said, eyes narrowing as she served up the puck. It sailed toward Rick’s goal and he knocked it away, abandoning his cup in favor of defending his measly one-point lead.

“I don’t wanna be that crazy boyfriend that has to be by him all the damn time.” _Boyfriend_. Rick cringed internally _, is that even what I am to him?_ “Or…clingy fuckbuddy. I don’t know. Whatever the hell we are- shit!” He swore loudly as Carol slammed the puck right into his goal, the plastic clattering hatefully. “Damn- what?”

Carol’s eyebrow was quirked dramatically at him. “You can’t seriously think you’re just fuckbuddies. I’ve seen you two together. You’re disgusting. It’s like watching couples on their honeymoon, all _baby_ and _darlin’_ and _blue eyes_ and feeling each other up. Makes me sick,” she bemoaned, but her smile betrayed the affection behind her words. “He may not have said it yet, but you’re his boyfriend.”

“I don’t know. If that’s how it is, he should’ve said somethin’.” Rick placed the puck, tongue between his teeth as he tried to find a good angle.

“Or maybe _you_ should do it.” Rick blinked over at her from across the table. “If you wanna know, just…talk to him? Instead of worrying about it all the damn time. Now serve that shit so I can kick your ass and finish my wine. I've got better shit to do than be your relationship guru.”

* * *

Carol hadn’t been joking about _Eternal Sunshine_ , nor was she the only one in tears by the end of the movie. Rick wished he could blame it on the wine- the empty bottle stood mockingly on Carol’s side table, having been emptied an hour into the film- but he knew it was more than that.

“Why’d you make us watch this? Christ, Carol.” Rick wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie, sniffling. _Damn sad relationship movies right to hell_ , he thought ruefully. 

“Because I wanted something to convince me to go through with dying my hair blue, and that did it.” She leaned across her couch, ruffling Rick’s hair. “Suck it up, Rick. That was _way_ worse for my perpetually single ass.” She sounded oddly morose, even for someone who was just trying to suppress tears over a goddamned movie, and Rick scooted closer, nudging her shoulder.

“You alright?”

She nudged him back. “Oh, shut up. It’s just a goddamn movie. Don’t act like I didn’t just watch you cry and sniff that hoodie like it was the last time you’d ever smell your not-boyfriend.”

Rick chuckled. Admittedly, that was true. He’d taken to wearing Negan’s hoodies now that it was cold out- for some reason, they seemed more cozy than his own. “Guilty as charged. But you seem…off.” He caught Carol glancing over at her empty wineglass and frowned. “Carol.”

Carol liked to deflect. Rick had learned that about her pretty quickly, and usually he let it slide simply because he didn’t want to push too hard into uncomfortable territory, and god knew he was often guilt of doing the same thing. But now, with his friend looking like she was holding something back with an enormous amount of effort, he decided to push just a little.

“You wanna talk about it? I dump my problems on you once a week, and they’re not even that bad. Let me have a turn bein' the guru.”

Carol shifted on the couch beside him, pressing a little closer, her arm to his in a bid for touch and comfort that Rick was only too happy to give. “My ex called me the other day. Guess he got a new phone or borrowed a friend’s…I blocked him everywhere I could. Hadn’t heard from him in months, and now…this.” She stared ahead at the black tv screen, unable or unwilling to look Rick in the face as she let her fears seep out of her, a feeling Rick related to deeply. “He didn’t say much, I hung up before he could start. You don’t have to worry about me going back to him or anything, I just…I don’t like thinking about him and who I used to be.”

Rick slid an arm around Carol and hugged her close, chin atop her silvery head. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure if there’s anything else I can say. I’m just…sorry, Carol. He’s not gonna come looking for you, is he?” The thought sent a violent, protective urge through Rick’s body.

“I don’t know,” Carol muttered. “I don’t wanna think about it. All he managed to get out when he called was ‘where the fuck are you’ and I panicked and hung up. I don’t want to think about him showing up here.”

“If he shows up, do you have anything to…defend yourself with?” Rick hated to even consider the thought of tiny Carol having to defend herself like that, having to resort to violence just to stay alive, but he’d rather her have blood on her hands then come away with bruises and more scars than she already had. “Shane’s gonna be a cop soon, I’m sure if I told him what was goin’ on he could pull some strings and get you a carrying permit or somethin’ without having to wait.”

“I’ve already got one,” Carol admitted, and Rick peered down at her, impressed. “What? You thought I was gonna wait around for him to come back here? No, I got a permit right after I got out. Figured, you know. Better safe than sorry. I’ve got a small arsenal under my bed.”

Strangely, that made Rick feel a little more relaxed. “Well, damn. Good. I was just gonna offer you the baseball bat Negan keeps beside his bed in case we get drunk frat boys trying to break in, but that sounds a little better.”

Carol chuckled and gave Rick one last squeeze around the middle before sliding off the couch. “He had to use that yet?” She began clearing away the remains of their snacking and drinking, and Rick moved to help.

“Not really,” he said as he collected their cups and began rinsing them in the sink. “There as a close call once where we heard a crash in the middle of the night and he freaked out, but it turned out it was just Noodle knocking plates off the counter.”

“Make sure you put that stuff up when you’re done, then,” Carol called over to him. “That’s the good china.”

“These are plastic cups with Iron Man on them, Carol. And I'm pretty sure they're from the dollar movie theater down the road.”

“You bet your ass they are. I like drinking out of them and pretending it’s quenching my thirst for Robert Downey Jr. I’m sure you can relate.” She managed to hop up onto the minuscule amount of counter space her dorm afforded, dishrag in hand. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

Rick opted to sleep over that night, knowing that the party in his own dorm would likely rage on long past when he wanted to go to sleep. Carol’s place was nice and quiet on account of the fact that her roommate practically lived at her girlfriend’s place on the weekends, so they had free reign of the place, watching movies and playing music on Carol’s ancient record player and letting Noodle roam free as she pleased.

Carol’s couch was also more comfortable than the one in Rick and Negan’s dorm since her hall had been renovated only a semester ago, and Rick found himself falling asleep easily on the lump-free cushions, content and easy and full of wine.

* * *

The sound of Negan’s ringtone- Queen’s _Body Language_ \- roused Rick from his cozy slumber at an oddly early hour of the morning. He groped for his phone on the floor, nervousness fluttering in his belly when he saw that it wasn’t even nine yet. Why the hell was Negan awake so early on a weekend? He answered the phone, teeth gnawing at his lip.

“Negan? Are you alright?”

“Baby,” Negan rasped over the other line, sounding about as awake as Rick had expected him to, “don’t freak out, but I _think_ I’m in Alabama.”

“You’re _where?_ ” Rick sat up on the couch, disturbing Noodle in the process and earning an indignant _meow_ from her for disrupting her peaceful slumber atop his chest. “How?”

“Uh…you know, I’m not really sure,” Negan admitted, his voice apologetic. “I obviously drank a lot last night, and I remember Simon sayin’ something about this bar just past the border where they serve you free wings if you show up in your pajamas, and I think…I think we may have fucking driven there last night, because I just woke up in the shittiest motel I’ve ever experienced in my whole life, Simon and Arat are passed out on the floor, and the fucking History Channel is on and you know how I like to watch Finding Bigfoot when I’m drunk-”

Rick snorted and collapsed back onto the couch, his worries gone. “I do know. The other day you had it on after Dwight's party and you told me that if I grew out my beard again we could star in a porn parody called Fucking Bigfoot _._ ”

Negan wheezed out a laugh on the other line, and Rick felt something warm and sweet spread through his chest. God, he loved that laugh. He loved being able to make Negan laugh- it oddly felt like an accomplishment every time he did it, even though he'd once seen Negan laughing at a photo of a lizard in a cowboy hat. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I remember that. Well, we’re all in pajamas, too. And…hold on, lemme check the…yep! There’s leftover wings in minifridge.”

“Guess you’re in Alabama, then.”

There was the sound of creaky bedsprings groaning on the other line, and Rick could practically see Negan throwing himself onto the bed in despair. “ _Fuck_. It’s gonna take us hours to get back home. And there’s no way in _hell_ I’m waking Arat up before she’s good and ready. Knowing her, she was probably the one who drove our asses here- sober- and put up with all kinds of shit just to get free wings. One time she gave me a black eye because I poked her to wake her up during a lecture so the professor wouldn’t call her out in front of god and everyone. I’m not risking it. I’m sorry, baby, I wanted to spend the day with you.”

“I can hear you pouting, Negan,” Rick accused with a grin.  _Cute fucker._

“By the time I get home tonight I'll have gone, like…two full fucking days without putting my dick anywhere in you. I’m practically at half-mast just hearing your raspy morning voice all sexy over the phone.”

“Glad to know all you missed was sticking your dick in me.” Rick rolled his eyes and stood, stretching and shuffling into the kitchenette in search of coffee. “I’m feelin’ the love.” The slip of tongue made his steps falter on the cheap checkered linoleum, but Negan seemed to miss it entirely. 

“I missed more than that, Rick,” Negan cooed.

Rick breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Missed you sticking your dick in me, too. That fat fuckin’ cock in my mouth.”

Rick’s cheeks warmed, his quest for caffeine forgotten. “That right?”

“Hell yeah it is, darlin’.” There was a brief silence on the other line, and Rick found himself aching to hear more just in those few seconds. “Where are you right now?”

Dumbly, Rick glanced around Carol’s empty apartment. “At Carol’s. In the kitchen. She doesn’t have any coffee, just tea.”

“Fuck tea.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“What’re you wearin’, Rick?”

Rick’s face heated to burning, free hand fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “Sweats. One of your hoodies. You saw me leave last night, Negan. You know what I’m wearing.”

“Is Carol still asleep?”

“Yeah…” He was walking himself right into Negan’s clutches, and he knew it, but he morbidly wanted to see how far it would go. He flopped back down on the couch, hand resting idly on his stomach, eyes fluttering closed so that Negan’s voice filled his senses. “I’m on her couch.”

“Wish I was there with you, baby.”

“So we could defile Carol’s couch?” Rick slid the hand beneath the hem of his hoodie, warm palm against his belly.

“ _Fuck_ yes.” And how was it fair that Negan could sound so effortlessly sexy with a hangover at nine am? “I keep thinkin’ about how fast you came when I ate you out.”

Rick’s palm drifted down to his sweats, which were developing a bulge in the front. “ _Fuck_.”

“That’s right. You going commando today, Rick? I bet you fuckin’ are-”

Sometimes Negan got ahead of himself. “I’m at _Carol’s_ , you goon. I only go commando around you because I know it’ll make you stick your hands down the back of my pants all day.”

“You fucking love it.”

He did. The first time Negan had done it casually, while Rick was leaning over the counter and popping pizza bagels, he’d nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise, but it was just like Negan said- he _loved_ it. Sometimes it led to something more, to Negan spreading him apart and rubbing him, moving around front and giving him a quick and dirty handjob while Rick held onto whatever he could and tried not to scream, and sometimes Negan just gave him a squeeze and carried on, like Rick's ass was the world's best stress ball.

“Tell me you love it, baby. C’mon.”

Rick laughed quietly into the hand covering half his blushing face. “I love it.”

“Fucking right you do. You wanna know what _I’m_ wearing, Rick?”

Noodle clawed her way up Rick’s sweatpants to the knee, asking for food and affection, and Rick scratched her between the ears. “Lemme guess. Uh…those fuzzy Deadpool pants you’re always wearing to bed?”

“Goddammit, Rick, you make it sound so unappealing.”

Rick could picture it in his head- Negan in a grimy hotel room, pajama pants sporting a nice tent. “I knew it.”

“I’m tryin’ to talk dirty right now, baby.”

“Oh, is that what this is?”

“C’mon. Just a little somethin’ to make waking up this early worthwhile. Listen to my dulcet fucking tones and touch yourself for me, will you? Pretty please? I’m touching myself right now, my crotch is like a fuzzy Deadpool-logoed tent for you, sweet- _shit!_ ” Rick nearly dropped his phone for how loud Negan shouted, jerking away from the speaker. When he tentatively listed it to his ear again, he heard rustling and Negan faintly shouting in the background.

_“Dwight! You sonofabitch, how fucking long were you-”_

_“Why the hell were you touching yourself in a room full of people?”_

Rick dissolved into laughter and awkwardly pulled Noodle off his leg as he waited so that he could check if Carol was awake yet. Her bedroom door was open and she was still fast asleep, so he wrote her a quick note letting her know he was taking Noodle home and getting coffee. By the time he stepped out of the dorm, Negan was back on the line.

“Sorry, baby. Apparently Dwight was being a peeping fucking Tom-”

 _“I was asleep in the bathtub, you ass!”_ Dwight shouted in the background.

“Whatever. More to the point, we woke the sleeping dragon that is Arat, and if we don’t get her some coffee and a couple donuts in the next few minutes, she’s gonna nail both of us to the wall by the ballsacks. So I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Alright,” Rick replied, searching his pocket for his dorm key. “Bye.”

“Bye, baby.”

* * *

Rick and Negan’s dorm was a mixed bag- lucky because Negan must have kicked everyone when he left, because there wasn’t a single person passed out anywhere, unlucky because there was the usual post-party mess that Rick had no desire to tackle, so he ended up shutting Noodle in his room with some food and toys to keep her occupied. He wasn’t sure what would happen if she managed to lap up some spilled vodka, but he imagined it wouldn’t be good.

He spent the morning on his own, needing a bit of recharge time before he went back to Carol’s. He walked the campus with his coffee in hand and sketchbook tucked beneath his arm, looking for a nice spot to relax, and ended up on a sprawling patch of grass down by the empty baseball fields. He settled in, back to a tree, and sketched the mud-caked dugout, the empty bleachers, the red-orange leaves that had fallen to the ground and were rolling in the wind around him.

Carol had excellent timing, because it was around eleven when Rick was packing up that he got a text: _fuck everything I’m out of coffee._

Rick chuckled, tucking pencils away into his pockets and stretching his legs. He tapped out a reply: meet me at _Java Jam?_ And headed back to campus, already knowing the answer would be yes.

* * *

Rick spent most of the day hanging out with Carol, Maggie, and Glenn at Carol’s place playing the piles of card games that Glenn had collected, and by the time dusk had begun to settle in, Negan had texted him to let him know he was on the way home and Rick was heading back from a quick stop in Alexandria Hall to check on Noodle, who was peacefully napping and had only clawed up Rick’s desk a _little_ bit. He sent Negan a quick text back letting him know he'd be at Carol's, and then he was off. 

A sense of unease trickled through Rick like cold water as he neared Kingdom Hall, where Carol’s dorm was. It was a little further off the main campus, sure, but Rick had walked back from Carol’s dorm at all hours of the night and hadn’t felt remotely unsafe. Still- there was something making his skin prickle, that odd sensation of eyes following him that made him glance around and take in his surroundings, make eye contact with every person he passed, twitch at every little crunch of leaves or snap of a twig. The campus was far from deserted this early in the evening, Rick reasoned- there were bound to be people around. There were people behind him, naturally, but they could be going anywhere, could be heading to their own dorms. A group of people followed him in, and he opted for the stairwell instead of the elevator- Carol’s room was only two floors up.

It was when he’d cleared the first flight of stairs that he heard the creak of the heavy door opening below him, and his heart hammered in his chest, footsteps quickening to a jog as he took two steps at a time to get out of there faster.

“Hey, fucker!”

A male voice, laden with rage, came echoing up from the first floor, and Rick bolted, not knowing why anyone would be after him but not wanting to take a chance. Heavy footsteps thudded behind him in a charge, and he managed to get to the door before he saw the boy’s face. Big, burly, close-cropped hair and red faced, Rick didn’t recognize him, but he certainly seemed to know who Rick was by the way he lunged for him, catching his jacket halfway through the door and yanking him to the ground.

“What the hell are you _doing?_ ” Rick growled, kicking out at his attacker and landing a sold blow to the shoulder, enough to scramble away and through the door onto Carol’s floor. He was nearly to his feet when the boy tackled him again. Rick’s back hit the ground solidly, the boy’s heavier frame knocking the wind out of him and making his teeth ache in his skull. He was about to shout again when knuckles met his face hard enough to knock him senseless for a moment, his world tilting on it axis as he tried to get his bearings. 

When the boy spoke again, it was to bellow in Rick’s face with sour breath. “You stupid fuck, you think you can steal her from me? Think she’s yours now?” Rick bucked his hips enough to squirm out from underneath and land another kick to the boy’s stomach. “Stupid sissy _fuck_ ,” he barked, grabbing Rick by the ankle and dragging him back to get a hand in Rick’s hair.

“Get the fuck _off_ -”

Rick’s snarl was cut off by the boy slamming his face into the closest wall, once hard enough to dent the drywall and then again against the metal box holding the fire extinguisher. Rick hissed through clenched teeth, feeling pain sear through his face and blood drip from his nose to his mouth.

He threw an elbow blindly behind him- blind but with intent, and it hit hard enough to loosen the boy’s grip on Rick’s head so he could pull away and stagger to his feet a couple yards away.

“You’re Ed,” Rick spat at the boy clutching his side and glaring up at him hatefully. He'd never seen Carol's ex before, but he didn't need to recognize him to put the pieces together.

“And you’re the jackass who thinks he’s allowed to go out with Carol,” Ed returned snidely. He lunged again, barreling toward Rick and taking them both down, but Rick was ready this time, rolling them smoothly until he was on top and landing a solid punch to Ed’s jaw, then another to his cheek. He's never hit someone like this before, not with his fists tight and the intent and power behind the blows he dealt. Strangely, and maybe it was just because he hated Ed so fiercely, the ferocious rush of it almost felt _good_. 

“I’m not _dating_ Carol. But it wouldn’t matter if I was, because you-” his fist connected with Ed’s nose, “don’t fucking own her.”

“ _Rick?_ ”

Rick’s head jerked up at the sound of Carol’s panicked voice ringing down the hallway. She was standing right outside her doorway, and he locked eyes with her for a single tense moment, and that was all it took for Ed to buck him off and land him on the floor with a pained _oof_. Rick scrambled to his feet, ready to fight with everything he had to keep Ed away from Carol, but the girl was already in front of him, her face as cold and hard as steel. Ed must have been literally twice her size- Carol’s pixie frame versus Ed’s tall, bulky one made Rick’s stomach drop out in icy terror and then his fists clench when the fear gave way to rage. The idea of this person, this fucking monster of a boy hurting his friend for so long, taking _pride_ in it, made him want to charge Ed and go down swinging.

As it turned out, he didn’t need to.

“Ed,” Carol said coldly, meeting her ex’s eyes with a quiet, dignified strength that was all her own. “What the fuck are you doing here? I think I made myself pretty clear when I left you, but I’ll say it again since it clearly didn’t stick in that thick skull of yours- I don’t want to see you again. Ever.”

“You and I both know you don’t mean that, sweetheart.” Ed was all bravado, utterly confident that he’d be leaving with Carol by his side, and Rick was relieved to see that Carol didn’t waver. “You can’t really like hanging around with that scrawny piece of shit-”

“That _scrawny piece of shit_ ,” Carol spat, “is one of my best friends. He’s done more for me these last couple months than you ever have. And he just about knocked the shit out of you. I almost wish I hadn’t stopped him.” Ed scoffed and reached toward Carol’s arm, and Rick and Carol both acted at once- Rick lunging toward his friend and Carol reaching into her back pocked and whipping out something that had both Rick and Ed taking a shocked step backward.

“Don’t touch me,” Carol hissed, cool blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her body language clearly reading _don’t test me_. In her hand was a knife- a _blade_ , more like, because it was hardly something one would use to chop vegetables or open boxes. She wielded it as if she’d spent her whole life with six inches of sharpened steel in her hand, fingers threaded through the brass knuckles at the hilt, and she didn’t hesitate to press it to the throat of her abuser. “You don’t get to touch me anymore, you got that, Ed?”

“Jesus, Carol, calm the fuck down-”

“I’m perfectly calm right now, Ed.” Carol’s voice cracked out like a whip, silencing the boy. “I don’t think you want to see me when I’m not calm.” She pressed the blade a little closer, right over Ed’s throat, the blade bobbing when he swallowed hard. “You need to leave. I don’t want you here, Rick doesn’t want you here. I don’t want to see you around either of us again, you got that? No, you fucking listen to me!” Carol snapped when Ed went to speak. “If I see you again, I will kill you. I _will_. You think I haven’t thought about it before? That all those nights I had to lay beside you after you’d gotten tired of knocking me around and passed out drunk I wasn’t thinking about how I’d do it? How I'd cover it up? I have _years_ worth of evidence that I’ve saved in case I ever had to take you to court. I never wanted it to come to that- I just wanted out, but if you won’t give me that, I’ll take things into my own hands. And you won’t like what happens when I do.” She cocked her head at him. “Do you understand?”

Ed mumbled something too low for Rick to hear, Carol pressed the knife harder, and the words flew from Ed’s lips. “I understand! Fuck.”

Carol withdrew, the knife still poised in her hand. “Good. You can leave now.”

He turned slowly, sending Rick a vicious glare before stomping away and slamming the stairwell door behind him. When he was out of sight, Carol breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, and Rick noticed the slight tremor in the hand still gripping the metal so tight her knuckles had gone white. He reached out tentatively, hand on her shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Carol. You just about had me shitting my pants with that thing. Are you okay?”

She breathed out, slow and steady and soothing, and sheathed the knife before tucking it away in her back pocket again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Fuck, I was hoping he’d never- that I wouldn’t have to…” she gazed up at Rick, so much raw, mixed emotion on her face. “I wasn’t sure if he came back that I’d be able to do that, you know? Threaten him. Make him leave. I haven’t seen him in months, and I don’t miss him, but…I was so scared that if I saw him again, I’d turn back into the scared little girl I was when I was with him.” When she smiled, it wasn’t something happy, exactly- it was a look of triumph. “But I didn’t.” She pulled Rick into a hug, and he relaxed against her. “Thank you. For fighting him. You tried to keep him away from me.”

“Turns out you can handle yourself,” Rick chuckled, “just wish he wasn’t so rough on my face.”

Carol pulled back and studied him seriously, and the frown on her lips made him wonder how bad the damage was. He was feeling the blows he’d taken now that the adrenaline had worn off- pain throbbing in his cheek and nose, the iron tang of blood on his lips. It was then that, much to both of their surprise, Negan came up the stairs, saw Rick’s bloodied face, and rushed over, practically falling over himself in an effort to see what had been done to him.

“Rick! What the _hell_ happened to you?”

Rick smiled awkwardly, wincing at how it pulled at the split in his lip. “Uh- had a run in with Carol’s ex boyfriend.” Negan gaped at him and Carol then reached out to cup Rick’s bruised cheek in a ginger hand. Rick could see the muscles flex and jump in his jaw as he gritted his teeth, probably imagining sinking them into Ed just like Rick had. 

“Baby…” Negan whispered, his eyes watery and sad and pissed all at once. Rick blinked in shock- it wasn’t that bad, was it? “What the fuck…why did he…?” Negan looked pained as he thumbed across Rick’s cheekbones.

Rick shook his head. “I’m fine, Negan. It was a…misunderstanding. He thought we were together. Guess he’d been hanging around watching me goin’ in and out of her dorm all day.”

“So he fucking beat the shit out of your pretty face?” Negan snarled, lip curling. “You’re gonna press charges, aren’t you?”

Rick and Carol exchanged a look, and Negan’s frown deepened when Rick shook his head. “I, uh. I’m gonna leave that up to Carol, actually.”

Negan set his jaw. “Hell no! Carol, no fucking offence, but this asshole knocked _him_ around, not you.” Rick sucked in a harsh breath looked at Carol, who would have looked unbothered if Rick didn’t catch the way her fingers tensed at her side. “I don’t give a shit if he’s your ex, he hurt Rick, and if you’re going to _protect_ that asshole-”

“She’s not protecting him, Negan,” Rick snapped, wanting to pull the boy’s focus back off of Carol. She’d been through enough with Ed without Negan getting in her face, too. “ _I_ don’t wanna press charges. So if you’ve got a problem with that, you can take it up with me, not her. I _really_ don’t think he’s gonna show up here again.”

Negan still didn’t look pleased, but he dropped it, his attention refocusing on Rick's battered face. “Well, at least let us take you to the hospital to get you looked at.”

Rick shook his head even as Negan shot him an exasperated look. “I don’t need that. Really, I’m okay. I think I fought him off pretty good.” He offered Negan and awkward smile.“I don’t wanna rack up a hospital bill over some cuts and bruises.”

“What if you need fucking stitches? Your nose is bleeding everywhere.”

“I’ll look you over,” Carol offered, one calming hand on Negan’s arm, eyes still on Rick.

Negan didn’t like challenging Carol. Rick knew that and so did Carol, so it was a sign of how distressed that he was that he snapped at her.“No fucking offense, but I don’t think having a fucking art major _look over him_ is the same as going to a hospital.”

Carol’s face hardened dangerously, that take-no-shit glint back in her eyes. “I’ve got plenty of experience dealing with shit like this on my own. I couldn’t exactly go to a fucking hospital every time my ex threw me down the stairs or slammed my face into a mirror. Someone would have gotten suspicious. I _know_ when things need stitches or not.”

That shut Negan right up, shame collaring him and apology written in his eyes. “Oh.” He blinked once, the information sinking in and puzzle pieces clicking into place. “Oh. _Shit_. I’m sorry- I should have- fuck. Jesus, Carol, I’m-”

Carol brushed him off with a small, melancholy smile. “It’s alright. You’re upset. Rick's hurt, I get it.”

Negan nodded awkwardly. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry anyway. Shouldn’t have snapped. Shouldn’t have said…what I said. C’mon, let’s get him into to your room.”

Rick swallowed hard when he caught sight of his face in the mirror- there were bruises blooming across the right side of his face from jaw to cheek to eye, a sickly mix of dried and fresh blood trickling down his face from his lip and the gash across the bridge of his nose. He reached up gingerly, prodding it and wincing when pain flared under his touch. Carol tugged his hand away and guided him to sit on the closed toiled seat. “Don’t _touch_ it, jackass,” she grumbled affectionately as she rummaged through the cabinet beneath her sink. “It looks worse than it is right now because of the blood. You’ll be back to your usual pretty-boy self in no time.” She wet a washcloth and pressed it to Negan’s waiting hands. “Clean him up, would you? I don’t think he needs stitches, but that cut on his nose doesn’t look great.”

Negan nodded, tasking himself with gently, tenderly cleaning Rick’s wounds, pressing feather-light kisses to unmarked skin as he went. “You gonna kiss me better?” Rick joked, trying to wipe the serious look off Negan’s face.

“Wish I could, baby,” Negan replied softly, dabbing at Rick’s nose. “I fucking hate that you’re…” he broke off, shaking his head and straightening to toss the bloodied cloth in the sink. “I just hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m _okay_ ,” Rick said again, reaching out to lace their fingers together while Carol set to work bandaging the worst of it. Negan made a disbelieving noise in his throat.

“This fucking prick better not come back around here, or I swear to god I’ll fucking-”

“He won’t,” Carol interrupted curtly. “I threatened him with a knife. Made it pretty clear that if I saw him around again he wouldn’t just be walking away with the bruises Rick gave him this time.”

Negan gaped at Carol, eyes flicking back and forth between her and Rick like he wasn’t sure if he believed her or not. “You’re shitting me.”

“She’s not,” Rick piped up. “He left with his tail between his legs. He won’t be back.”

Negan whistled long and low, impressed. “Damn. Carol, I always kinda got the feeling you were a secret badass, but that’s some hardcore shit. I wouldn’t want to be the dumb motherfucker that messed with you, no sir.”

Carol rolled her eyes, but Rick and Negan both saw the pleased smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Shut up.” She looked Rick over, nodding at her handiwork. “The nose might scar, and you’re gonna be getting some weird looks about the bruises for a week or two, but you’ll be okay.” Her slim fingers carded through Rick’s hair, affection in her eyes. “You did good, holding your own like that. Ed’s gotta have sixty pounds on you at least. Now-” she tucked away the bandages back under the sink and glanced up at the two of them, “you two wanna walk with me to Maggie’s dorm? I mean, I’m gonna take this,” she tapped the knife in the back pocket of her ripped-up jeans, “but just in case. I’d feel better if I wasn’t walking alone when Ed was just here.”

“Of course,” Negan nodded, “you gonna be alright? I mean- I don’t know what it’s like for you, but seeing him again- and like this, all…” Negan made a vague explosive gesture and noise with his mouth that made Carol smirk. “You know. Can’t be great.”

Carol nodded. “I’ll be okay. That’s why I’m going to Maggie’s. Thank you, though.”

Negan dipped his head, eyes back on Rick. “You good to go, darlin’?”

Rick was already back on his feet, ready to head home as soon as possible and lie down. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Negan couldn’t stop kissing Rick as they laid in bed together that night, half-dressed and buried beneath warm blankets. Rick felt utterly safe there- his head sharing a pillow with Negan, the boy’s arms tight around him like Rick would disappear if he let go, gentle kisses raining down on every part of him that Negan could get at. They didn’t talk much- they were both exhausted, after all, Rick from the Ed fiasco and Negan from lack of sleep and driving all day to get back to campus. Words didn’t seem necessary just then, and Rick felt more comforted by Negan’s steady, warm presence all around him than he could by any words.

There were only three words Rick wanted to say, anyway, and he held them close to his chest like Negan held him, unable to let them go just yet.


	18. The Good Stuff Seems So Hard To Hold

It came over the period of a week, and if Rick were to look back, he would have seen it revving its engine and speeding toward him from miles away.

It started on a Monday after their classes were over and Rick was in his bedroom doing sketches for his final project in oil painting.

“Rick! Holy shit, _Rick_! Get your tight little ass out here, you’re not gonna believe this!” Negan hollered from the living room with all the glee of a kid on Christmas morning.

“My ass objects to that description,” Rick answered with a smile as he entered the living room to see Negan, looking positively deranged with glee, surrounded by bubble wrap and several bags of wildberry sour patch kids. On the living room table- which looked like it was near collapse under the train of the weight it was forced to bear- was a large cardboard box that Negan was grinning into like he was an evil mastermind unlocking Pandora’s box. “Your order somethin’?” His mind conjured up images of the truly depraved- but intriguing- toys that Negan had showed Rick a few days ago on some highly disturbing website. He half-expected the boy to pull out a pair of furry tiger-print handcuffs and a dildo shaped like a dragon dick.

“Nope! My mom sent me this from home, said she found it when she was cleaning out the attic. We must have just never unpacked it when we moved the last time- look at this shit!”

Rick ambled over and peered into the box, and suddenly Negan’s giddiness was explained in full. “Holy shit,” he whispered, reaching in and picking up the hunk of bright orange-and-white plastic with a coil of thick cord wrapped around its muzzle. “Is this for Duck Hunt? Please tell me you’ve got Duck Hunt on this thing.”

Negan beamed. “Hell yeah I do! Duck Hunt, every fuckin’ Super Mario game they made for this beauty, Legend of Zelda, Donkey Kong…” Negan rifled through the box, pulling out two controllers and tossing one to Rick. “Get ready for me to kick your ass at games I haven’t played in ten fuckin’ years, Grimes. You ever play on one of these before?”

Rick watched with some amusement as Negan sprawled on the floor and began attempting to disentangle the mass of wiring so he could hook the thing up to the tv. “Fuck yeah. My dad had a NES and that’s all me and Jeffrey ever played ‘til we were in middle school. If I wanted anything made this century, I had to go to Shane’s.”

“He was the cool guy with the Playstation?”

“He was the cool guy with the Playstation,” Rick confirmed. “So don’t get so damn cocky. I used to stay up all night tryin’ to beat Super Mario.”

Negan’s eyes flicked up to him, a devilish smirk curving his mouth. “And to think,” he drawled, scooting closer to Rick and planting and wet kiss on his cheek, “I didn’t even have to beat Bowser to get my Princess Peach.” He dropped one hand from the av cables and gave Rick’s ass a hungry little squeeze that made Rick both laugh and groan all at once, returning Negan’s kiss with a slower one to the other boy’s lips.

“Shut the hell up,” he muttered, beaming despite himself, “and untangle that shit. I want you to watch me kick your ass in Duck Hunt.”

Rick did, indeed kick his ass at Duck Hunt. Negan’s aim was, somehow, impossibly terrible even a foot away from the screen. “If I see that fucking goddamned dog laughing at me one more time, I’m gonna start aiming at him,” Negan grumbled as he handed over the gun after yet another dismal failure.

“Maybe you should stick to melee weapons,” Rick suggested, cocking his hip jauntily and blowing imaginary smoke from the muzzle of the plastic rifle. “Leave the sharpshootin’ to the real cowboys.”

Negan broke into a wily grin at that, ditching the pursuit of feathered fowl in favor of gripping Rick’s hips in his hands and peppering kisses to the side of his neck. “You’re a damn smartmouthed cowboy. That make me the outlaw? You gonna teach me a damn lesson, show me that _this town ain’t big enough fer the two of us_?” His fake southern drawl was a mockery of an accent, making Rick laugh and kiss him back before he took aim at the screen again.

“Sure does. Now hush, this cowboy’s got some ducks to take down. Then we can see how you hold up in Super Mario.”

* * *

Collectively, they made it halfway through world four- and Negan had insisted on being Mario because _red is my fucking color, Rick_ \- before Rick picked up on just how much Negan’s phone was buzzing. It had started slow, the first one innocuous enough and vibrating right as Negan was serving the last bounce to Bowser’s head in the first castle, but then he’d answered, and the texts kept coming after that. While Rick was battling Goombas, Negan was tapping away, and Rick found himself making Luigi jump in time with the click of Negan’s keyboard.  _Who the hell leaves their keyboard sounds on anyway,_ he thought spitefully as he glared over at the tiny screen. 

He normally never asked who Negan was texting or calling or going out with. Despite the boy’s history, he trusted him. Negan had a life outside of Rick, Rick had a slowly evolving and growing life outside of Negan, and he liked it that way. He never wanted to be the way he was with Shane, always so wrapped up in another person’s orbit that he forgot that he was a world of his own. But…this was a lot of texting, and usually Negan was a little more respectful when they were spending time together like this. Maybe he was bored? They’d been at it for a while, after all.

When Negan’s eyes didn’t leave the screen for a full minute even when Rick’s turn unceremoniously ended by a giant flying fish and Mario had been waiting eagerly for his shot at the level, Rick felt compelled to ask. “Who’s that?

Negan set his phone down then- face down, Rick noticed. Did he always do that? He’d never noticed before. “Nothin’, just Sherry.” His tongue was between his teeth as he jumped and dodged, and Rick felt a little better for a moment. _Negan wouldn’t flirt with Sherry while she was with Dwight- of course, that didn’t stop him from hitting on Amber…_

“She’s goin’ through a rough patch with Dwight,” Negan continued with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “What else is fucking new? They go through a rough patch where one of them says or does some dumb shit and they break up for like, five days, and then they kiss and make up and Dwight snapchats him rubbing her feet or making her an omelet or some gross shit like that.”

Rick chuckled, then outright laughed when Negan bit the dust on the same spot that he had minutes earlier. “That’s rough. Them, and the game.”

“Yeah,” Negan shrugged, stretching his long legs out in front of himself. “The on-and-off thing is a real buzzkill. Too fucking complicated, you know? Just get it right the first time.” Negan poked Rick teasingly in the side. “I can say that because I am a well-known haver of very stable, healthy relationships.”

 _This could be a stable, healthy relationship if that’s what this is_ , Rick wanted to say. Instead he asked, “So she’s asking you for advice, then?”

“ _Fuck_ no. She’s just ragging on poor Dwighty-boy. I think she’s angling to get some of that sweet, sweet Negan dick again, too, but that’s not happenin’ this time around!” He gave his crotch a loving squeeze and grinned lewdly at Rick, who had gone stock-still and frozen. “What?”

“You- you and Sherry…?” Rick couldn’t even say it. Sherry was at every single party Negan went to or threw. She’d slept here, sometimes in Negan’s room with him and his other close friends when they passed out, Negan had bought her coffee before class, used her studio of photo shoots-

“We hooked up. Or- well, I guess we hooked up for a while. It might have been considered dating, I guess.” Negan shrugged, like it meant nothing that he’d slept with one of his best friends, like it meant nothing that he’d been texting her all afternoon and she’d been, apparently, angling to get back in his pants. “We never really talked about it,” Negan continued, and Rick’s stomach seized up like he was going to be sick. “We had a thing for a while, Dwight was pretty pissed about it but then her and Dwight made up and we weren’t a thing anymore.”

“Oh,” Rick whispered, because what else was there to say?

Negan tipped his head at him, a crease forming between his dark brows, deep valleys of discontent. “Rick, c’mon. It didn’t _mean_ anything- shit, it was a couple of months in my sophomore year. We weren’t like- _in love_ or anything.” He said it like it was something ridiculous in a Hollywood tear-jerker. “Hell, I would barely call it dating. We just hung around and fucked and got drunk and made late night runs to Taco Bell. I bitched about how fucked up I still was over Lucille and she bitched about how much of an insufferable dick Dwight is, and that was it.”

“Oh, well, if _that’s it_ ,” Rick snapped, his voice a little too curt.

Negan paused the game, tossing his controller aside and turning to face Rick fully, arms crossed and eyes hard. “What the hell is the problem? You can’t seriously think I’d cheat on you with _Sherry_ \- she’s my friend, Dwight’s my friend-”

“That didn’t stop you before. Didn’t stop you from hitting on Amber.”

Negan’s face went a little slack for a moment, like the sheer audacity of Rick throwing all of it back in his face shocked him stupid. He bounced back a moment later, though, tongue sharp as ever. “I learned my fucking lesson with Dwight and Sherry. Getting in the middle of those two caused nothing but trouble for all of us. I nearly lost both of them because if it, and I don’t want that to happen again, alright? They may be shitty fucking friends sometimes, but so am I, and they’re all I got, and I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“And Mark and Amber?”

Negan snorted. “Mark’s hardly a friend. He’s a pal of Dwight’s from some history class, I don’t owe him shit. And I knew Amber wasn’t gonna be into it, anyway, there’s no harm in a little flirting.”

Rick couldn’t help but wonder if Negan still held onto that philosophy while he was dating him. Was that what he did at all the parties Rick didn’t go to? Is that what he did when he was texting Sherry?

“I still don’t know what your fucking issue is, though,” Negan muttered. “Like I said, nothing’s gonna happen with me and Sherry, so why do you care if we used to hook up? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Rick looked down at his own bare feet and dug his toes into the nubbly, multicolored carpet. “Guess it doesn’t.”

Negan softened a little then, Rick’s shamed attitude reeling him in. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of the boy’s head before pushing to his feet. “C’mon, I’m fucking starving. You want Kraft for dinner? I got buffalo sauce to put in it.”

* * *

Rick tried not to dwell on it, he really did. He liked Sherry, and Dwight was alright sometimes, and he trusted Negan. He told himself that over and over, hoping it would lessen the tightly wound little knot of worry that had made a tangle in his chest, tried to remind himself that he was the one Negan was spending his days and nights with, the one he was cuddling in the morning and kissing goodnight and fucking every second he could. 

Despite it all, he still found himself going over some of the things Negan had said again and again in his head. _Only dating a couple months, just hung out, we never really talked about it._  

 _It didn't mean anything._ That was how Negan had brushed it off, but having sex and hanging out and going out to eat sounded a whole lot like what he was doing with Negan together. 

 

* * *

 

 

One of Rick’s favorite parts of the entire art school was the people there. Not even just the people like Negan and Carol that he loved, or teachers like Andrea who made his three-hour classes bearable, but the weird ones, the quirky, the free-spirited, the people who let their freak flag fly twenty-four-seven, uninhibited by shame.

Granted, some of them were a little painful to endure in the moment. There was the one teacher that had been rather new-age and insisted that the class all lie on the floor, their eyes covered by ping-pong ball halves with holes poked in them so that they only got a pinprick of flourescent light overhead, and, quote- “let their hands interpret for them” as they scribbled sightlessly at a piece of paper by their side. Said teacher had also insisted that in his class they should attempt to “psychically feel the vibrations of the universe” and had them hammer away at rocks slowly over the course of weeks to make a small dent- Rick still wasn’t sure what the purpose of that one was, but the guy had graded on attendance, so he hadn’t argued with his methods.

Another oddity of the art department was the group of kids that were always seen hanging around the dumpsters in the back alley behind the building. And it wasn’t like they were smoking to get around the campus’s supposed smoke-free policy- which was a goddamned joke, anyway. No, they truly appeared to be a ragtag band of dumpster divers, and Rick had the good fortune of being in his studio class with their ringleader, a girl named Jadis who spoke in short, clipped sentences like she was a contestant on Wheel of Fortune unwilling to buy a vowel.

The Intro to Studio instructor, Jacqui, mostly let her students do their own thing, provided they weren’t on their phones the whole class period. Rick had spent most of his time making headway on a series of watercolor paintings, but Jadis had churned out an interesting array of garbage sculptures and was currently working on a life-size painting of what appeared to be a blue cat painted on several scraps of metal roof shingles that he suspected she’d salvaged and welded together herself.

More alarming than that was that she appeared to have a thing for Rick, judging by her prolonged stares in his direction. Jadis was very much unburdened by social norms, and while Rick would normally envy her that, he wasn’t sure how much he enjoyed her brand of attention.

He made the mistake of engaging with her once, because he really did like her blue cat painting.

“You don’t work from a sketch or anything,” he’d noted, impressed. “You just go for it. I wish I was more like that.”

Jadis looked something like a cat herself. It wasn’t her hair, which was cropped into short bangs in the front and ombred brunette to blonde, or even the odd overcoat she always donned, but there was something about her smile that came across as all-knowing in that omnipotent way that cats had about them.

“You like?” She asked, tipping her head at Rick with a certain kind of amused fondness on her face.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I do.

“You are my muse,” she proclaimed boldly, dramatically spiked eyebrows rising like the sun. Rick blinked hard, swallowed, glanced from the painting to Jadis and then back to the painting before slowly edging away back to the table he’d been working at.

Jadis called him “kitten” from then on, and Rick had learned his lesson about complimenting her work.

Negan always loved hearing about Jadis and the Garbage Pail Kids, as he’d so lovingly dubbed them . Today, Rick met up with him between classes to get lunch together, and while Negan was scarfing his burrito bowl, Rick told him today’s tale of woe in which Jadis had approached him in class, looked him up and down, and asked, “Need to sculpt you for class. May I?”

“She wanted to fucking immortalize your bangin’ bod, Rick. Can’t blame her for that,” Negan said around a mouthful of beans and guacamole.

“Yeah, but she wanted me to model for her _nude_.” Rick shook his head, still a little in shock from the encounter.

“Honestly, that’s pretty fuckin’ understandable.”

Rick scooped up a forkful of spicy steak and shoved it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I think she and her group might be a cult.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “You’re being dramatic, Rick. I’ve seen them around- they’re freaky as hell, sure, but they seem harmless. I’m pretty sure they’re just anime kids. You know how _they_ are.” He grinned, folding his napkin into a paper football and flicking it at Rick’s face. He fell short and it landed in his lap, field goal attempt failed. Rick smirked at him over the bottles of chili sauce.

“I’ve seen your Netflix account. Ouran High School Host Club? _Really_? I figured you’d at least watch something with lots of boobs- maybe a dick or two-”

“Hey, hey hey! Don’t you start with me, Richard-”

“That’s not my name,” Rick said, half-laughing.

“And how do you know there’s no tits? You a closet weeb?”

Rick shrugged. “I got nothin’ to hide. We all go through the anime phase, Negan. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of it! I’ll wear it on a damn t-shirt.”

“I’ll remember that for Christmas,” Rick chuckled.

“You plannin’ our holidays together already, cowboy? Gonna give me my well-deserved mistletoe kiss?” Negan stuck his tongue out, a child through and through. Rick faltered, though- had the mention of Christmas been too much?

“I mean- I was just thinkin' ahead,” Rick said, trying to keep his voice light as the autumn breeze tousling their hair and churning up sunset leaves. “Don’t you ever do that? I mean, hell, semester’s only a little over half over, and most people are already antsy for winter break.”

Negan shrugged and tipped back dangerously in his chair to reach the wastebin behind them and dump the desiccated corpse of his burrito bowl. “I mean, I’m always living break-to-break. It’s the student version of working for the fucking weekend. But it’s only October, Rick. Don’t rush through the Fall. Best time of year, if you ask me. Leaf piles and pumpkin everything and,” he reached out to pluck at Rick’s hoodie- which was really Negan's- “I get to see you wearing my clothes every goddamned day. It’s cute.”

“You’re…cute,” Rick retorted feebly, scooping up the last of his salsa with a bit of leftover tortilla. “C’mon. Walk me to class.”

* * *

It all culminated with the worst blowjob Rick had ever partaken in.

And it had started off so _well_.

Rick sprawled on his back across Negan’s bed the second he got home from work, stripping off layers of human indignity along with his logoed polo shirt and collapsing onto the mountain of pillows and blankets they had cultivated with all the loving care of a pair of very cold-natured architects. Normally he was exhausted after work- not so much physically, but emotionally from dealing with snippy people who seemed to think that he, personally, was responsible for the two-hundred-dollar price tag on science textbooks.

Today, however, he’d let his mind wander while he’d been cleaning up the mess of highlighters and ballpoint pens that one rather petulant fifty-year-old man had strewn in his huff to leave the store after barking at Rick and Sasha for a good ten minutes about how _they shouldn’t charge so much for these damn books, it’s just fucking paper, what the hell do you mean it’s a hundred and twenty to rent a used copy?_ Rick had immediately offered to clean up the havoc- anything to get away from the checkout counter for a few minutes-and while he’d been re-shelving school supplies, he started thinking about Negan. No particular reason _why_ , but it came out of nowhere, a craving so strong that Rick had been on pins and needles all through the rest of his shift.

And now he was home and Negan wasn’t here. Rick glanced at the clock, cracking one weary-yet-alert blue eye to read the time- Negan’s last class of the day should have gotten out just a couple minutes ago, so the boy should be home any second.

Rick couldn’t wait for him. Already down to his underwear and half-hard, his hand found its way beneath the band of his briefs as if drawn there by gravity. He rolled over onto his back, legs propped up and knees bent, stroking himself with a spit-slicked fist higher and higher into oblivion. He considered shedding his underwear as well, but he forced himself to be patient and wait- there was something about Negan yanking them down his legs that never failed to make him hard as steel- though it wasn’t like he needed the help right now.

He didn’t stop even when he heard the click of Negan’s key in the front door, the soft thud of a backpack dropping heavily onto the carpet, a sharp, surprised intake of breath from the open doorway.

“Well ho-ly shit,” Negan rumbled, his voice all velvet-smooth purr. Rick’s eyes fluttered open to meet his, a jolt of lust searing through them both like a volt of electricity, and Rick was sure the spark he felt there was enough to make the power surge across the whole campus.

He _loved_ Negan. It was all he could think as the boy slunk toward him, worn leather jacket dropping somewhere onto the floor, shoes and socks toed off before Rick could even unknot his tongue. He loved this boy- this occasionally-impossible, mostly-spectacular boy that had him by the ankle and was dragging him to the edge of the bed until his legs were wrapped loosely around Negan’s waist.

“If this isn’t the best goddamned way to come home, I don’t fucking know what is.” Negan’s words touched Rick’s skin as wet, biting kisses from the band of his briefs all the way up the middle of his chest. Fingers bit into Rick’s thighs as they were hitched up higher on Negan’s waist, and then Negan’s mouth was finally, blessedly, on Rick’s own, their soft sighs and moans making a melody all their own.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day,” Rick drawled with a nip to Negan’s earlobe. Negan shuddered hard against him, his hips rutting forward against Rick’s cotton-clad erection. Rick’s hands found the button of Negan’s jeans as their mouths moved together, and within seconds he was unzipped and undone, his jeans halfway down his thighs while Rick struggled to tug them off. “Fuck- can’t- get- them-” he laughed with Negan, puffs of warm breath on kiss-wet lips, and then Rick was off the bed and kneeling on the floor, taking Negan’s jeans with him. When he grinned up at his lover, it was with a sultry smirk that saw color rising high on Negan’s cheekbones. “Got them.”

Negan chuckled weakly, reaching down with a trembling hand to card his fingers through Rick’s curls. “You sure did, baby. You wanna put that pretty fuckin’ mouth to good use while you’re down there?”

Rick gripped the waistband of Negan’s boxers, smirking. “That was the idea.” He pulled them off with a flourish, Negan eagerly lifting his hips to help him out, his cock already half-hard and straining toward Rick’s willing mouth. Rick pushed Negan’s knees wide, pressing light, teasing kisses to the boy’s inner thighs before Negan’s length bumped his cheek, demanding attention.

In the time he and Negan had been together, Rick had learned a lot of things- how to make cinnamon rolls from scratch, how to cure the world’s shittiest hangover, where the best places on campus for lust-fueled quickies were. And he’d learned that he loved giving blowjobs. Maybe it was just because Negan was an extremely considerate lover- always checking to make sure Rick was okay, always showering him with breathy, whimpered-out praises as his mouth worked, never just grabbing his head and pistoning his hips until Rick couldn’t breathe- which Negan had relayed to him was a less-than-fun experience. Rick loved having Negan in his mouth, heavy and thick and hot on his tongue, the head butting up against the back of his throat, seeing how deep he could take him, how loud he could get Negan to cry out his name as he finished.

So it was great- it was all great, Negan dick-deep in Rick’s throat and Rick humming and sucking just how he’d learned that Negan liked…and then he opened his eyes.

Rick had been in Negan’s room so many times this semester that he probably had the layout of photos on the walls memorized. He knew more of the people in them now, had met Simon and Arat and Laura, had even shared a beer or two with Dwight over a game of darts. He’d made peace with the one of Lucille, had written off the flirtation with Amber as a fluke.

But Negan had been texting Sherry a _lot_ in the past few days. Rick had tried to ignore it, tried to tell himself, like Negan said, that it had nothing to do with him. Sherry was a friend, that was all.

Except that, up until Negan’s revelation during Super Mario, Rick had only ever thought of Sherry as exactly that- Negan’s friend. So he hadn’t noticed that there were a lot of photos of her on the wall- not really many more than anyone else, but…there were a couple of _just_ her. And because the universe was cruel and unrelenting, Rick’s blowjob position had him looking right over Negan’s shoulder at a photo of Sherry and Negan, cheek to cheek, grinning at the camera and making kissy faces.

It didn’t do wonders for his oral enthusiasm, or his rapidly wilting erection.

He was still staring at the photo when Negan stilled, hips no longer pumping and hands no longer stroking Rick’s hair. “Hey. Rick- you okay?” Rick blinked up at him, face blank. “You kinda froze up on me. Somethin’ wrong?” Rick just kept staring around the room, taking in all the photos with new eyes- Sherry here, Sherry there, and how many of these other people had Negan slept with? “Rick.”

“What happened to the photos you took at Pride?” Rick blurted suddenly, a termite of doubt boring its way into his good mood and nesting there.

Negan frowned. “Whatcha mean, baby? I’ve still got ‘em, they’re on my phone.”

Rick worried his lip- maybe he should drop it. Negan had taken the photos of him for his project, after all. Bu then again, he’d also asked a bunch of relative strangers to model for him. And Glenn. Oh, god, had Negan and _Glenn_ -?

“Rick? You wanna come back to me, honey? You look about a thousand fuckin’ miles away.” Negan glanced down at his shining erection. “Should I put this away?”

“There’s a lot of photos of Sherry on your wall,” Rick said, ignoring him. He could see Negan’s reaction without even looking at him- shoulders drawn up and face contorting with annoyance.

“Yeah, so? There’s pictures of all my friends up there.”

“And Lucille. And your mom.”

“You've got a problem with me havin’ pictures of my _mom_ on my wall now?”

“Everyone in your life that’s important,” Rick said, the words hitting him in a disheartening revelation. “They’re all up there.”

“Yeah. My friends, my family. They’re _important_ to me, Rick. You’re not still on about the Sherry thing, are you?”

“It’s not just Sherry!” Rick shouted, and Negan recoiled in surprise at the force of it. When he spoke, his voice was tight.

“What’s this about then, Rick? Hm? Lucille? You jealous of all my friends, or just the ones I’ve fucked? You want a goddamned list or something? Wanna show up drunk at their doors and bitch them out like you did Lucy?”

Rick felt the accusation like a slap, stinging and making his skin burn. “No, I just wanna know if I’m gonna be good enough to make the wall when you’re done with me.”

Negan startled, blinking rapidly. “What the hell does that-”

“You and Sherry were just together for a couple months, right? That’s what you said. Not even really dating, you just hung around and fucked and talked about your  _feelings,_ because apparently none of that qualifies as bein' a couple.” A dam had burst within Rick, all the confusion and anxiety rushing in all at once and threatening to drown him beneath the deadly current. “You never put a label on it.”

“What’s your point?”

“That’s what _we_ do, Negan,” Rick snapped. “We have sex and we eat and we watch movies and stuff like that- all this time, I was thinkin' that was couple stuff, but since that's all you and Sherry did, I can't help but think about how that's all we do, too. I'm no different than Sherry- except that she’s up there with all the people you care about, and you cared about her enough to stick around even when you weren’t sleeping with her anymore. Are we gonna be the same way? Are you still gonna want to be friends with me when you get bored and find some- some other person to fuck, when someone new catches your eye-”

“Whoa, who the hell said anything about someone new?” Negan had tucked himself away, and he looked gobsmacked by Rick’s sudden outburst.

“That’s what you’ve been doing for the last couple years- you said it yourself. You sleep around. I was just the latest fun thing to do. Stupid kid that had never slept with a guy-”

“You know I don’t fucking care about that!”

“I don’t want- I don’t just want to be some guy you fucked,” Rick confessed in a whisper, eyes on the ground. “I- I _care_ about you, Negan. And I guess I’ve always kind of felt like…like you just thought of me as somethin’ temporary. He gave Negan’s room one last parting glance. “These are all the people you care about, and I’m not one of them.”

“Because I didn’t put your fucking picture on the goddamned _wall_?” Negan cried incredulously, gesturing to the offending photos. “What, you want me to just drop everyone and everything I care about because you’re here now? And you’re all I need, right?”

Rick rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated and confused as to why he started this stupid argument in the first place. “No, that’s not what I’m-”

“Just because you’re cool with just having one friend doesn’t mean I have to be the same fucking way. Excuse the hell out of me for not ditching all my friends and plastering my walls with photos of you because we’ve been fucking for a couple months.” The words were nasty and defensive, slicing through soft meat and going right for the bone beneath.

“Is that all this is?” Rick’s words were barely above a whisper, pain making them waver.

Negan crossed his arms across his chest- he would have looked idiotic with his t-shirt still on and rumpled boxers hanging loose on his hips, but the time for humor had dissipated as soon as Rick had laid eyes on the photo. “Sounds like that’s all this is to you. And that’s fucking fine by me.” Rick felt tears pool in his eyes, blurring the sight of Negan’s messy room as he tried to rein them in and failed. “You can fucking go if you’re not gonna blow me. Since that’s _all we do_ , anyway.”

Rick let out a soft, hitching sob that felt like it split his chest in two, and groped on the floor with teary eyes and shaky hands for his clothes, throwing them on in a rush. He couldn’t stay here tonight, not with Negan just down the hall. He was out the door in under a minute, charging down flights of stairs because the thought of standing still in an elevator for thirty seconds- possibly with other people witnessing the tears and runny nose and red face- was unbearable.

He walked the campus in the wind, which had taken a turn from refreshing to frigid in the last couple of days. His eyes stung, matted curls whipping into his disaster of a face, and it was with no small amount of relief that he finally ducked into Kingdom Hall. Two flights up, and then he was at Carol’s door, knocking until his knuckles stung and the girl was ripping the door open and looking ready to throw fists.

“What the fuck do you- oh, Rick!” She took one good look at his dreary visage and frowned deeply. “Shit. What’s wrong?”

Rick took a deep, steadying breath, trying to collect himself before he asked, “Can I stay here for the night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end! Can't say just how close yet chapter-wise because I haven't written them yet, but we're in the home stretch.


	19. All Apologies

“Here, drink this.” Carol said gently, offering Rick a whipped-cream topped mug with steam rising from it in thick wisps. Rick took it gingerly and Carol settled down across from him on the couch with a mug of her own. “I call it Carol’s Hot Mug of Healing. Not to brag, but it’s just about the best damn hot chocolate in the world. Drink up, it’ll help.”

It _did_ smell amazing- the scent of Carol brewing it up on the stovetop had overtaken her dorm and replaced its usual lavender-honey-candle scent with the warm smell of chocolate and cinnamon. But Rick doubted whether even Carol’s Hot Mug of Healing could help mend the mess he’d made of him and Negan. “No offense, Carol, but unless this can take me back in time about an hour, I don’t think it’ll help too much.”

Carol frowned at him, and despite the mustache of whipped cream across her upper lip, she still looked formidable, which had to be a first for anyone. “Offense taken. You haven’t even tried it. You’ve read the Harry Potter books, right? Don’t say no, I’ve seen them on your bookshelf and I know you have doodles of Sirius Black in that secret sketchbook of yours, don’t deny it.”

Rick ducked his head. “I like him.”

Carol snorted. “You have a type. Anyway, think of this as a nice piece of chocolate after a dementor encounter. Only it’s better than Hershey’s, and the dementor was…whatever the hell happened to you tonight.”

Rick took a sip- okay, so Carol made the best hot cocoa in the world. And, admittedly, though Rick’s heart still felt heavy and hollowed-out, the warmth that spread through his chest and the sweetness and spice that lingered  on his tongue made him feel the tiniest bit comforted. “Nothing happened to me. Not exactly. It’s more like _I_ happened.”

“What’d you do?” Carol kicked up her feet onto the back of the cough- how the hell she didn’t spill cocoa down her Addams Family sweatshirt Rick had no idea. She never seemed to sit straight, always sprawling or curling into herself like a finicky cat.

“I just…I fucked up, Carol. I fucked up real bad.” Rick stared into the swirling chocolatey ether of his drink and wondered if he could read his melting whipped cream like tea leaves: _you will fuck up your romantic life due to your numerous insecurities. Beware of photographs and opening your goddamned mouth._

“You wanna elaborate on that at all?”

Rick sighted, taking a long, rallying swig of his cocoa before spilling his sordid tale. “I fucked up with Negan. He’s been…I found out he used to kind-of go out with one of his best friends, and that friend’s been texting him a lot while she and her boyfriend are broken up, and…and then I kept seeing her picture on his wall and I flipped out on him.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed. “You think he’s cheating on you?”

Carol seemed like the kind of friend who would show up at Negan’s bedside in the middle of the night and threaten to cut his balls off if he hurt Rick, so he quickly shut that down before she started breaking out the switchblades. “No. I mean…no. I don’t know. I know he’s not _now_ \- I guess I was worried that he would. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I thought now, because it all seems so damn _stupid_.” He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling more tears pool and threaten to spill over. “I picked the worst possible way to bring up the whole _what are we_ question, and I definitely didn’t do it the right way, and…and now there’s really no point, because there’s definitely no _us_ to talk about now.”

“Because you had _one_ fight?”

Rick swallowed thickly. “Because he told me that if I thought we were just fucking that I should leave if wasn’t going to finish blowing him. I think that was as clear a message as any.” Rick took one glance at the look on Carol’s face and realized he needed to give a little more context. “I may have started a fight while I was going down on him.”

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose, breathed out deeply, and looked torn between hysterical laughter and vomiting. “I don’t know if I needed that particular detail.”

“Sorry.” Rick slumped further into the couch, chugging cocoa and staring into his rapidly emptying mug with big, sad eyes.

“Rick.” Carol pulled the boy against her, petting his hair with familiar fondness, and Rick relaxed a little, damp eyelids fluttering shut. “Look, you need to talk to him, alright? Not tonight. You’re all fucked up, he sounds like he’s pretty damn upset…you need to take a night apart and calm down and talk this out, okay?”

Wetness dripped down Rick’s cheeks onto the knee of Carol’s pajama pants. “What if that’s it, Carol? What if he doesn’t want…what if he doesn’t want to be with me anymore?” It wasn’t until now that it hit him just how much he loved having Negan in his life. Not just as someone to sleep with and kiss and cuddle, but as someone who made him laugh, who encouraged him and pushed him to try new things. “I’m in love with him, Carol. I am. But if he doesn’t feel like that, I still want him in my life. I don’t _need_ him- but I like him, as a boyfriend or a friend or a fuckbuddy or…or whatever. You and Negan are the best things that’ve happened to me in a long time.”

He could hear the smile in Carol’s voice. “You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me too, Rick. And Negan- I’m sure he feels the same way. He’ll see that when he calms down.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll get you some pillows. You need to sleep this off, okay? It’ll look better in the morning.”

* * *

The first thing Rick did when he woke in the morning was reach for his phone and check to see if Negan, by some miracle, had texted him- only to realize it wasn’t there. He remembered now- it was still in Negan’s bedroom, probably on the floor beside his bed. Or Negan had found it and put it in Rick’s bedroom, unwilling to have anything of his near him. The thought alone was enough to made Rick’s heart twinge with regret.

He didn’t have anything on him, he realized- not his phone, not his wallet, not his keys to get back into their dorm. All had had on was the pair of sweats he’d worn before work yesterday- sans underwear, because of the rush he’d been in, and…fuck, he realized as he glanced down at himself. He was wearing Negan’s hoodie. Of course he was.

He couldn’t come crawling back to Negan wearing the boy’s clothes like a lovesick puppy- his fragile pride had already been stomped into nothing yesterday after Negan had told him to leave, there was no way he could show up back at their dorm, begging to be let in, wearing Negan’s hoodie and looking weepy and disheveled. He felt pathetic enough already.

He stripped it off, letting the soft, well-loved fabric be tossed in with the blanket Carol had lent him. He padded down the hallway to Carol’s room, relieved to see that she was already awake, her silver hair sticking out in all directions as she scrolled through something on her phone. She looked Rick over with amuse when she saw him, shirtless and shivering slightly in her doorway. “Rick,” she sighed dramatically, “I know you’re in a weird place right now, but I just don’t think hooking up with me is the answer. I know I’m a damn slice, and you’re not bad, I guess, but I’m just not looking for a commitment right now, you know? It’s not you, sunshine, it’s me.”

Rick rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his bare chest, a smile nearly eking its way out of him when he saw Carol’s barely restrained laughter. “Excuses, excuses. You got a shirt I can borrow? I woke up and realized I was wearin’ Negan’s jacket.”

“I don’t think we’re quite the same size,” Carol deadpanned.

“You don’t have anything I could squeeze into? Like…a t-shirt or something? I don’t really wanna show up wearing his clothes.” He watched as Carol crossed the room and started rifling through her closet, thumbing through hangers swathed mostly in black.

“I left the stuff I used to wear at home- all the overzised shirts and stuff that Ed liked me to wear. How do you feel about spaghetti straps? Yay or nay?”

Rick groaned. “Please no.”

“I’ve got a corset with a killer push-up bra built in. Strapless, zips up in the front. I think it screams ‘take me back, Negan’. Or at least ‘take me’.” She flashed him a grin over her shoulder, but Rick couldn’t return it. “Alright, alright. Here, I’ve got some shirts in the back- this one should fit, but it may be a little short on you.” She tossed him a black t-shirt, which Rick gratefully slipped over his head. She was right on both counts- it did fit him, and it was also short on him, enough that a few inches of bare stomach showed above his sweats.

It also said “Bad Bitch” across the front, and Rick couldn’t decide if the text or the length of the shirt was more damning.

“The good news,” Carol snickered, biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh, “is that crop tops are in right now.”

Rick groaned and collapsed backwards onto Carol’s bed, the t-shirt practically riding up to his ribs. “Maybe I should just stay here another day or two.”

The suggestion was met with a pillow thrown at his face.“Oh, no you’re not. You need to go talk to him, Rick. For fuck’s sake, you’re in love with him.”

“What if he doesn’t feel like that about me though, Carol?” Rick shoved the pillow aside, pleading with sad blue eyes. “What he said last night- I know he was pissed and lashing out, but what if that’s really how he feels now? Or what if that’s how it’s been all along? The stuff he did with Sherry, that’s how it is with me and him, and if he doesn’t see me as anything but someone to fuck, I’m gonna be putting myself all on the line for nothing. What if he really doesn’t care about me?” Rick felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes again- _fuck_ , when was the last time he’d cried this much over someone? It must have been when Lori left.

“Sunshine,” Carol sighed, coming to stand at the foot of the bed so that her tiny frame managed to tower over Rick, a pillar of wise, punky, bedheaded authority. “He cares about you.”

“You don’t know that for sure, though. I could just be another guy he’s fucking-”

“ _Rick_ ,” Carol warned, “you have to stop saying stupid shit like that. I mean it. I get that you’re the kind of guy that needs to hear things out loud every now and again- make sure he’s on solid ground. You’re a planner, through and through, and that’s a good thing, but honey, not everyone’s like that. Negan? He’s been taking cues from you since the beginning. I think I know him well enough to say that he’s usually the one to make the first move. But with you, he waited. He let you take the lead, because he wasn’t sure about how you felt.”

Rick blinked hard, mouth open and ready to protest, because hadn’t Negan been the one flirting with him since the moment he’d set foot into their dorm? But then it hit him- their first kisses, their first date. He’d been the first one to bring up sex- to really talk about it instead of just flirting around it.

“That boy cares about you, Rick. I don’t know how you managed to miss it, because it’s plain as day to anyone else that spends five goddamned minutes around him. He _adores_ you.”

Rick dredged up memories of Negan from the past few months- the gentle way Negan handled him, how worried he’d been after Ed had attacked him, how sweet he’d been to his parents, how he’d taken care of him after the disaster at Pride…

Carol reached for her phone and unlocked it before pressing it to Rick’s hands. “I assume you don’t know about this. I think you need to see it. I only just found out this morning, it popped up as a recommended page on Instagram. I didn’t know Negan had one- guess it makes sense, photo major and all, but I don’t get on there much so I didn’t think about it. He’s got a lot of people following him on here.”

Rick took the phone, and for a single moment of gut-wrenching terror, he read Carol’s serious face wrong and his mind immediately, _predictably_ , jumped to the worst possible scenario. Negan was pissed and had a memory card full of incriminating photos of him- the ones from the photo shoot where he was being blown, the ones he’d let Negan snap after they’d had sex- or, once Rick had gotten bolder, during. He’d come a long way since his first photo-shy post-coital encounter with Negan’s camera, and he’d seen some of the pictures the boy had on his phone- things that would make a porn star blush, things that he was shocked that he’d allowed Negan to take pictures of. Every inch of his body had been documented in explicit detail by Negan’s photographer’s eye, just waiting to be dumped online and shared with the masses to get back at him.

The unfounded fear died in its tracks as soon as he saw what was really on the page.

They were almost all photos of Rick- most of which he didn’t even recall Negan taking. There were a select few that he recognized- the ones from Pride weekend, the one of him on the motorcycle, a couple of inexplicit outtakes from their Blue photoshoot where Rick was laughing, nose crinkled and lips pursed with a paintbrush poised on his upper lip like a long, thin mustache. Beneath it, the caption read _my boy does it better than you, @simonfuckinsays_.

Rick couldn’t stop scrolling through the photos- there was one of him sleeping peacefully in Negan’s bed with Noodle curled up in his hair with the caption _best fuckin things to wake up to_. One of him from the night he’d made French toast to surprise Negan after a long shift at work, their tiny kitchen a mess of eggshells and powdered sugar, Rick’s own face tipped away from the camera as he squinted down at the frying pan he was cooking in. Ones of him from the nights they’d partied with Negan’s friends, victorious after beating Simon at beer pong, giving Arat a piggyback ride, dancing with his arms up over his head and a brilliant smile on his face. Some were of Rick painting, both in his room and in the studio, surrounded by blues and purples and smeared in oil and charcoal. _The artist at work._

There were a bunch of him snapped quick and candid, and Rick wasn’t sure how the hell Negan had caught him looking good so quickly, but there he was, wind in his hair and sun on his cheeks, looking like someone worth photographing. Him with his head in the fridge looking for a midnight snack, him swallowed whole by a pile of blankets and Negan’s warmest hoodie on the day the air conditioner got stuck on full blast for three hours, him trying to extricate Noodle from their drapes after she’d climbed them and sunk in her claws.

There were photos of him as far back as the beginning of the semester: ones where Rick was napping on the couch with his knees tucked into his chest and reading at the kitchen table and ducking his head into the fridge for a study snack. There were photos of him in life drawing class, tongue between his teeth as he sketched, the caption beneath catching Rick by surprise. It was before they’d gotten together, and yet Negan had written _he’s the only art I wanna draw._ He scrolled to the next photo in the set and laughed aloud- it was a snap of Negan’s sketchbook he had to keep for class, filled with crude, unsteady scribbles that were very clearly meant of be of Rick.

There were photos of other things, too- ones of Noodle when she was being particularly cute or photogenic, basking in the sun or curled up in a pile of Negan’s dirty laundry, ones of Negan’s other photos from his classes, ones of himself and Simon and Arat and Dwight and Sherry and the others, even some of Glenn and Maggie and Carol. But most of the photos on Negan’s feed were of Rick. It was surreal, after a semester of seeing everyone but himself on Negan’s wall, seeing himself over and over again with adoring words written beneath, tucked away and yet in plain sight all this time.

He couldn’t stop reading the captions, needing to take them all in and tattoo them on his heart to remind himself of them on days when he had doubts.

_My boy. He’s so fucking gorgeous. How’d I get so lucky? Can u believe I get to fuck him. Stupid hot. My boy does it better. #hotboysandcats. #icamethreetimes._

Alright, so of them were more explicit than loving, but still. Over and over, photo after photo, little declarations of adoration and affection and lust all dedicated to him, and he hadn’t even known they’d existed. Rick had never thought much of his looks, but the way Negan captured him, he almost felt as beautiful as Negan saw him.

One photo in particular caught Rick’s eye- it was from Pride, but it was posted separately from the others from that day. It was just Rick, caught up in the moment during the parade, eyes sparkling and glitter raining down around him, a spectrum of banners flying overhead.

 _I fucking love him_ , the caption read.

Carol’s phone dropped back onto her comforter with a soft thump, and Rick gazed up at his friend with a dawning realization in his eyes.

“He…loves me.”

“Yeah. I know. _Everyone_ fucking knows.”

“I fucked up.”

“I mean, yeah. I’ve been telling you that.”

Rick was on his feet and halfway out of the dorm. “I need to talk to him. Set everything straight…”

Carol snorted, following him to the door and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve been telling you that, too. For a while now, actually.”

“Yeah, well,” Rick ran a hand over his jaw, his face permanently set in an awestruck grin. _He fucking loves me._ “I’m kind of an idiot, Carol. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Damn straight you should have. Relationship guru, remember?” She shook her head at him, love in her eyes. “You _are_ an idiot, Grimes. That’s okay, though. Negan’s an idiot, too. You two make a good pair.”

Rick paused at the doorknob, turning back to his friend and then pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. I don’t know why the hell you put up with me sometimes, but I’m glad that you do. Thanks for lettin’ me stay the night and setting me straight and showing me what you showed me. I can’t thank you enough, Carol. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Carol pulled the door open for him. “Thank me by listening to me for once in your damn life. And bring me a cheese Danish from Java Jam on Monday because god knows I’m not gonna wake up in time to get it myself.”

Rick chuckled, giving Carol a parting kiss to the top of her spiky head. “Will do. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get out of my dorm.”

* * *

Rick ran back to his dorm, praying that Negan would be there when he got back- and that the boy would let him in. By the time he arrived back in Alexandria hall, Carol’s t-shirt was clinging to him even more than it had been, the snug material sticking to his back, his sweats riding low on the v of his hips.

His fist stopped mere inches from the wood of their door, worry flooding in fresh and new like spring rain. Rick cursed himself- why did it always, _always_ have to be like this, a constant battle to not expect the worst? He’d been nearly high on the rush of discovering that Negan loved him just a minute ago, and now his traitorous brain was poking and prodding at every sore spot he had, trying to get him to turn back. _What if he’s in there with someone else? With Sherry? What if he doesn’t love you anymore, what if he didn’t really mean it, what if-_

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered aloud to himself, and he knocked on the door.

It was an endless, aching moment of silence with the sound of his own rapping knuckles echoing in his head, and then there was a noise from inside, the sound of footsteps, the sound of a clicking lock, and-

“Rick.”

Negan stood in the open doorway, one foot blocking Noodle from escaping into the hall, a habit they’d both developed over the weeks of having her. Rick noted with some relief that Negan looked normal- not sex-disheveled, not angry, not ready to slam the door in his face. He simply looked guarded, which was a feeling Rick was intimately familiar with.

“Can I come in?” Rick asked, “there’s somethin’ I need to say.”

Negan’s gaze swept over him, taking in the rumpled hair and low-slung sweats and settling on the proclamation stamped across Rick’s chest with amusement in his eyes- wary amusement, but amusement nonetheless. “Sure, Bad Bitch. It’s your dorm, too. You leave your fuckin’ key?” Negan turned away, and Rick followed him in, nudging the front door closed with his foot.

“Yeah. Kinda bolted last night. Didn’t think about it.” He shifted nervously from foot to foot, eyes on Negan, who was watching him with arms crossed, hip resting against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t think about a lot of things last night,” Rick admitted. “I did a lot of thinking today, though.”

“That right?” And did Negan sound a little worried?

“Yeah.” Rick closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Been thinkin’ about how I was a goddamned idiot.”

“For dating me?” Negan snapped, wary and defensive, and Rick shook his head.

“No. For jumpin’ down your throat about Sherry. For sayin’ that you didn’t care about me, because I know that you do. I’ve been too far inside my own head to see it, but I know that now. Everything in me, all my stupid fucking fear and worry, I let it eat away at me until I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have. I should’ve said something. I was so _scared_ , Negan, and it wasn’t because of you- it was because of me. I was so scared that the way I felt about you…that you didn’t feel the same way, when all I had to do was look at you and see that I had everything wrong.” Rick took a deep breath, and stepped into the taller boy’s space, meeting his eyes imploringly. “I love you. I love you, and I know that I really fucked up last night, and I’m sorry.”

Negan’s mouth was slack, hazel eyes wide with surprise. “You…?”

“I love you,” Rick repeated, a grin spreading across his face. Every time he said the words aloud, it felt like he was batting away every negative bit of white noise clawing at his brain. “I love you, Negan. I’ve known for too long that I love you, and I didn’t tell you. I should have done it earlier, but I’m tellin’ you now.”

If Rick had been in free-fall since he’d opened his mouth, Negan’s lips on his were the arms that caught him and lowered him safely to solid ground.

“I love you, too,” Negan murmured against Rick’s lips, unwilling and unable to be parted from him. “I tried to tell you- at Pride- and I…I chickened the fuck out. Rick, I was so goddamned scared that you just saw me as someone to fuck. Not- not like that!” Negan waved his hands at the horror on Rick’s face. “Not like- I just always kind of wondered if you thought of this as something casual. A stepping stone to bigger and better things, you know? Not that you can get much bigger than my fuckin’ dick-” Rick rolled his eyes, and Negan cut himself off. “You know what I mean. You already knew that I had…a past. It was always there in the back of my head that you just needed someone to teach you the ropes, and whenever someone you really liked came along, you’d be gone.”

Rick slid his palm up Negan’s chest, resting it over the boy’s steady heartbeat. “ _Negan_.”

Negan nuzzled his face into Rick’s hair, planting kisses there. “And then, last night when you said…I just heard everything I’d been scared of. I thought you were saying that all we were doing was hooking up, and I flipped my shit. What I said to you…I thought I was rubbing it in your face, _ha-ha, I don’t give a fuck_. And then…shit, Rick, when I realized that you’d been worried all this time that I didn’t care about you- _fuck_ , baby.” Negan tipped his chin up, face open and ardent. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. You kept makin’ moves, and I kept waiting on you to tell me what this was. I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve told you I loved you the second I knew.”

“When did you know?” Rick asked. “Was it at Pride?”

Negan shook his head, a hangdog smile on his scruffy face. “Before that. It was on our first date, actually. Just about knocked me on my ass. But I kept feeling you clutch me a little tighter on the bike, and I was so worried that you hated it or that you were freaked out- but you weren’t. You fuckin’ _loved_ it, and when I took that picture of you on the bike, I just thought, _he looks like he belongs there_. And then, at the diner…that was when it hit me.” Negan reached out and tucked an errant curl behind Rick’s ear, wistfulness on his face. “You were pouring over the menu like I’d taken you to a five-star restaurant and not a place that sold their waffles buy two get one free, and the sun was setting just right outside the windows, all orange and red behind you, your hair was all mussed up from the helmet and you were playing footsie with me under the table, and I realized that all I fuckin’ wanted was to make you happy, to see that smile over and over again for as long as you’d let me. I know it sounds cheesy as fuck, Rick, don’t you laugh at me-”

“I’m not laughin’.” Rick beamed up at Negan, touched by his story. “You knew you loved me that soon?”

Negan nodded and leaned in to catch Rick’s lips in a barely-there kiss. “Yeah, I did. I don’t fall in love easy, Rick, but when I do, it’s fuckin’ fast. That’s how it was with Lucille, and that’s how it was with you. And it scared the shit outta me both times…but this time, I didn’t let it scare me away.” He smiled. “I wanted this time to stick.”

A realization struck Rick then. The scene Negan had described to him at the diner- he’d seen it as he’d scrolled through the photos earlier that morning. “You took a picture of me. At the diner, with the sunset.”

Negan’s brow furrowed or a minute. “I didn’t think you’d noticed. I’m usually pretty sneaky. I could be paparazzi if I was completely fuckin’ devoid of morals.”

“I didn’t notice,” Rick conceded. “Carol showed me your Instagram account this morning.”

It was a rare occurrence that Negan would blush and get flustered outside of the bedroom, but here he was, standing before Rick pink-cheeked and mildly abashed. “Oh. You found that? I, uh…look, Rick, I can take all those photos of you down if you want, I made sure nothin’ private went on there, I’d never, never fucking do that to you-”

Negan was silenced by Rick’s lips on his own, kissing away his apologies and explanations. “I know. I know you wouldn’t.” He felt ashamed that he’d entertained the thought for even a moment. “I don’t want you to take them down. I, uh. I really like them, Negan. It was sweet. You’re a regular romantic when you wanna be, you know that?”

“I’m a motherfucking romantic _all_ the time, darlin’. Didn’t you notice?” Negan teased. “I’m glad you liked it, though. I was gonna show you at one point- I swear I wasn’t just doin’ it to be creepy. That’s why I haven’t put anything of you up on my walls yet. It wasn’t- I realized what I’d said after you left. Everyone important to me is up on those walls, and you took that to mean that you weren’t- but you are. You’re so fucking important to me, Rick. I’m just a fuckin’ idiot sometimes. I was gonna show you when I finally grew half a pair and told you that I loved you. Y’know, since I put it on one of the photos. Did you see that, too?”

Rick nodded. “I did. That’s when I realized I loved you. Not- I mean, not when I saw the photos. At the parade. It just kinda hit me, but I think I’ve loved you a lot longer than that.”

“I’m sorry,” Negan said again, one last apology. “For everything I said last night. And I know I was kinda bein’ a dick about Sherry.”

Rick shook his head. “No- I mean, a little, but I like Sherry. I like that you’re friends with her, that you care about her and Dwight. I just…you know me. I worry. I get things in my head and it spirals out of control, one domino knocking them all down. I’m sorry I freaked out about her.”

“You don’t need to worry about me and Sherry,” Negan reassured him. “You don’t. She was joking about us hooking up again, and even if she wasn’t, that wouldn’t happen. I fucking swear, Rick.”

There were so few times when Rick felt completely at peace with where he stood with people, but now, looking into Negan’s eyes, the caramelly hazel soft and gooey and warm for him, honesty and love in their depths, he didn’t feel any doubt at all.

“I know.”

* * *

Negan was much better at making apology waffles than Rick was, and after a disastrous first turn at the waffle iron that resulted in a blackened mound of charred batter and blueberries and the two of them scrambling madly to get rid of the smoke before they set the alarms off, Negan took the helm while Rick showered and texted Carol to let her know that all was well and to thank her again for letting him stay the night and cry on her shoulder.

He was lingering on his reflection in the bathroom mirror, half-dressed in clean boxers and a hoodie when Negan came in with a plate of waffles with rapidly melting butter pats on top.

“Damn, you’re not gonna wear that little number you came home in? That’s a fuckin’ shame, those sweats were about to fall the fuck off and that shirt on you? Mm, honey.”

Rick snorted and then frowned at the split across his nose from Ed’s attack as it stood out brightly against his pale skin. The rest of the bumps and bruises had mostly healed up, but the gash across the bridge of his nose was still pink and beginning to scar over. “Good thing we did the photoshoot before Ed smashed my face into the wall, huh?”

Negan slid the plate of waffles onto the countertop and sidled up behind Rick, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Wouldn’t have mattered to me. I think you look pretty fuckin’ sexy with the scar. You knocked that dude clean on his ass, and he wasn’t exactly a featherweight from what Carol said.”

“My nose is big enough without drawin’ extra attention to it.” Rick poked at it with a frown, and suddenly his head was being tipped up and to the side so that his face was within kissing range. Lips descended on Rick’s nose, kisses peppered from tip to bridge.

“Don’t you talk shit about my favorite nose, you bastard. Now get in bed. I made waffles for my fuckin’ boyfriend, and I had to sleep alone last night. I need food and some good old-fashioned make-up sex.”

Rick laughed, pecking Negan on the lips and grabbing the waffles. “Alright, alright.” And then- “Boyfriend, huh?” He liked the sound of the word on his lips. Negan’s _boyfriend_.

“Rick,” Negan sighed, “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes. Get your ass in bed. I’m gonna show you what happens when my _boyfriend_ gives me nothin’ but sass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're nearing the end here folks!! I'm planning on the next chapter being the last one, if all goes according to plan. Thank so much @ everyone who's been reading and commenting, it fuels me when i'm running on empty, which is....usually lmao


	20. Never Knew I Was A Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter!! I'm seriously sorry this update took so long, I have been absolutely slammed with school and work these last two weeks, but this is the end!

Rick’s first thought when he heard banging on the door at some ungodly hour of the morning before the sun even had graced the sky with its presence was that their RA finally abandoned his bong long enough to find out about them hoarding an illicit kitten in their dorm. For a full ten seconds, he frantically scrambled to find a hiding place for Noodle, waking a soundly snoozing Negan in the process and only getting the meowling cat halfway into his closet when he heard Carol’s voice, loud even through the layers of drywall and wood between them. 

“Open the fucking door, I know you can hear me!”

“Carol just got on my shitlist,” Negan grunted as he buried his head beneath Rick’s abandoned pillow. “I didn’ have to be up for another five hours.”

Rick gave his boyfriend’s ass a playful swat- or, he assumed it was Negan’s ass beneath the mound of fleecy blanket piled on the bed. The temperature had dropped to a chilly forty degrees in the last week, and the two of them had made a late-night run to WalMart to pile their cart with four different fuzzy Sherpa-lined blankets and the cheapest space heater they could find to keep them warm. As it turned out, their dorm’s ancient thermostat was ill-equipped to accommodate for the winter weather even after it had been patched and repaired by campus maintenance, and the two of them had taken matters into their own hands.

Rick pulled the door open and we met with Carol’s phone showed unceremoniously into his face, too close for him to read even as his eyes crossed.

“Did you fucking _see_ this?” she cried, grinning with childlike wonder in a way that was rare for her. “I saw it as soon as I woke up!” She sauntered into their dorm, swinging the door shut behind her and waiting for Rick to take her phone and get up to speed.

Rick’s eyes dropped to the screen as he scanned the email in Carol’s inbox- _Carol Peletier, we’re pleased to inform you that your pieces Cherokee Rose and The Grove have been accepted to the annual student exhibition-_

“Holy _shit_ , Carol!” Rick cried, grinning up at his friend. “You got in!”

“Check your email, Grimes! Now, c’mon, I’ve been ready to scream with you since I saw this. Where’s Negan? Have him check, too.”

Rick ran so fast back into his room that his socked feet skidded on the carpet and he practically nosedived onto Negan’s comfortably nestled body in an effort to get to his phone.

“The fuck, Rick…?” Negan grumbled, squirming underneath him as Rick pulled up his email.

“Carol got accepted into the show! They sent out emails this morning, check your fucking phone!” Rick yelped as Negan upended him onto his side of the bed. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the new message in his inbox from the head of the art department. Negan’s chin was hooked over his shoulder, eager to read, and Carol was kneeling behind him on the bed.

He took a deep breath, and opened it.

_Rick Grimes, we’re pleased to inform you that your pieces Days Gone Bye I and II have been accepted-_

“I got in!” He shouted, dropping his phone as Negan whooped loudly in his ear and he was pulled into a dog-piling hug by him and Carol. Their triumphant shouts were interrupted seconds later by Carol shoving at Negan’s shoulder.

“Check your damn email!”

Negan’s phone was held aloft over their heads at an odd angle. “I’m fuckin’ _tryin’_ Carol!” And then, ten seconds later he cried “Hot damn!” and the celebrations continued, complete with kisses on cheeks and, in Rick and Negan’s case, a loud, wet one on the lips.

“Holy shit,” Negan breathed, collapsing back against the bed. “This is like…an actual show. Real-ass people are gonna be coming.”

“As opposed to all the fake-ass people who came to your other shows,” Carol grinned.

“As opposed to the shows that the photo students throw together every so often where it’s in someone’s parents’ barn or a rented-out storage unit a half-block from a bunt-out crackhouse.”

Rick shrugged. “Still. Better than nothin’, right?”

Negan snorted. “I guess. But the only people that came to the storage unit shows were other students. They have actual gallery curators and shit comin’ to this.”

“Well,” Carol announced, “I say we celebrate. No- I _demand_ that we celebrate. I’ve got a bottle of bubbly at my place with our names on it. What d’ya say, boys?”

“I say hell yeah!” Negan shot up off the bed, searching Rick’s bedroom for acceptable daywear. Between the good news and mention of alcohol, Negan's sleepiness had evaporated like dew in the morning sun. “Nothin’ like drinking for breakfast. You got shit to make mimosas, Carol? We can get fancy up in this bitch.”

“I’ve got orange juice. You guys don’t have class today, do you?”

“I’ve got a review in bio, but I was gonna skip that shit anyway.” Negan answered, and then rolled his eyes at the stern look Rick gave him. "What? You said you'd help me study. That's better than listening to Dr. Whoever-the-fuck talk about the mating patterns of frogs or whatever it is we're supposed to be learning about."

Fair enough. “I don’t have anything ‘til noon, but I wouldn’t mind showing up to oil painting drunk. I think it’d make painting the same goddamned cow skull for the third week in a row more interesting,” Rick said- he'd never had such a strong hatred for still lives before that class. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The last couple weeks of the semester seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Rick was always startled by how suddenly classes wrapped up after Thanksgiving break. He and Negan had spent the week apart, Negan flying home to Virginia to spend the holiday with his mom and aunts and uncles. He’d made sure ahead of time that his airline would let him carry Noodle on in her travel carrier, and the two of them had bid Rick goodbye the Sunday before the break began. Rick had driven home for some much-needed time with his own family the next morning. It was strange, not feeling completely at home in his own house anymore. He found himself missing his tiny-but cozy twin bed bed, the relative peace and solitude that came with not sharing his living space with his whole family, the five-minute stroll to Java Jam. And, of course, he missed Negan.

Rick’s mother had promptly flipped her lid when Rick had come home with a still-red scar across the bridge of his nose, and had given him the third degree before even letting him in the door.

“Mom, _mom_ -” Rick raised his hands in surrender to her questioning. “I’m fine. Had a run-in with my friend’s ex-boyfriend. It was a…misunderstanding.” _Sort of_. “You should see the other guy. Really, I’m okay. He won’t mess with me again.”

“Ricky,” his mother sighed, running her thumb along the scar, “I wish you’d have told me, at least. I worry so much- you know I worry about you.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I promise it’s nothin’ to worry about.”

He felt like he had that same conversation a half dozen times with grandparents and aunts and uncles when they poured into the Grimes household on Thanksgiving day, and there had been one curious four-year-old cousin who had yanked on his nose and asked him bluntly, “Who beat you up?”

Rick met Shane at a sports bar called Benchwarmers that he and his buddies seemed to favor as their weekend dive on Friday before he drove up to the airport to pick Negan up. He didn’t say anything about the scar, but then again he’d already been a pitcher deep into drunkenness when Rick had showed up.

If it bothered Rick that Shane couldn’t even wait for him to start drinking, or that he hadn’t stopped by on Thanksgiving like he usually did, it was a fraction of the annoyance he would have felt months ago, he was sure of it. It was something like progress, and sure enough, it made the night easier on him. It wasn’t like it was before, when he and Shane had spent their evenings in Rick’s bedroom with a bowl of Orville Redenbacher and melted chocolate to dip it in while watching campy horror movies or marathoning Star Wars for the hundredth time, or when they’d taken almost weekly late-night trips to the Waffle House down the road just for the hell of it, or spent their summer afternoons swimming laps around Shane’s pool and building a fire pit to roast marshmallows over when the sky finally surrendered to the nighttime. It wasn’t like before, and as Rick nursed his single Sam Adams and fumbled his way through a futile game of pool, he realized that maybe things would never be how they were before. Shane would never be the smart-mouthed little kid who secretly loved Disney movies and was scared of the teenagers in their neighborhood in Scream masks on Halloween, and Rick would never be the kid too afraid to raise his hand in class when he knew the answer and only ever ate chicken nuggets and Kraft mac n’ cheese.

 _Maybe that's okay, though_ , Rick thought as he watched Shane sink the eight ball with the finesse of a much more sober man. _Maybe we’re not supposed to be who we used to be. Shane’s different, but I think I might be, too. And if I’m not all the way there yet…I’m getting there._

“Man,” Shane said with a grin and a shake of his head. “You fuckin’ suck a pool.”

Rick downed the last of his beer and shoved the other boy’s shoulder. “Yeah. I can still kick your ass at some Pac Man, though.”

Shane guffawed and glared in the direction of the single ancient arcade machine shoved into the corner, its colorful exterior faded by time and spilled beer. “Only 'cause that game’s rigged! It’s hard as _shit_. All those little fuckin’ turns and the little…the…the thing-” Shane made a wild gesture with his hand that should have been complete nonsense, but Rick knew what the other boy had meant without him saying anything at all- that much, he thought, still hadn’t changed between them. Even months spent growing apart couldn’t erase the years of unspoken understanding between them, and Rick liked that. Sometimes it was the little things that mattered the most.

“The joystick,” Rick prompted, and Shane nodded vigorously.

“Yeah! That thing, it kept not turnin’ where I wanted it to! Fuck that shit.”

Rick snorted and gave his friend a squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s all about hand-eye coordination, Shane. Let me show you.”

* * *

“ _Rick!_ ”

Negan’s voice resounded through Hartsfield-Jackson’s baggage claim as he charged toward Rick, the arm that wasn’t clutching a cat carrier outstretched and ready for the hug that his boyfriend immediately pulled him into. “I fuckin’ missed you, baby! Facetime doesn’t do that gorgeous mug of yours justice.” Negan leaned back like he was doing the limbo to take a good, long look at Rick’s face, love and lust and everything in between oozing from every pore.

“I missed you too, you goon. And I already grabbed your bag. Good thing it stands out from the rest of ‘em.” Rick nudged Negan's rolling suitcase- which was a vibrant shade of fire-engine red with middle finger emojis patterned over its surface- and grinned. “You have a good trip?”

Negan laced their fingers together as they made their way to the parking garage, practically vibrating with joy at being back beside Rick. “Hell yeah! I think I went up about three pants sizes, but holy shit, my mom makes a mean apple streusel pie. I brought a few pieces home with me. Took all my damn willpower not to eat ‘em before they got to you. How ‘bout you, baby? Must have been hard, not gettin’ any dick for a whole goddamn week.”

“Yeah,” Rick drawled, his hip bumping Negan’s as they walked, the warmth of his body seeping through layers of clothes. “It was hard. _I’m_ pretty hard just seein’ you again, actually.” He spared Negan a taunting glance up through lowered eyelashes, and saw the shiver of lust make its way through his boyfriend.

“That right? Well, maybe we can do somethin’ about that. How long did you pay for parking?” Negan practically threw his suitcase into Rick's trunk and rocked on his heels, waiting impatiently. 

Rick snorted and unlocked the car. “We’re not fucking in a parking garage. There’s people and security cameras everywhere.”

Negan grumbled under his breath and settled into the passenger seat with Noodle’s carrier on his lap. “Damn. Worth a shot, I guess.” He jolted when Rick’s warm palm slid up the inside of his thigh.

“I want a bed for what I want to do to you,” Rick drawled, his hand lingering on Negan’s leg as he pulled out. “You can be patient, can’t you, Negan?”

He heard the boy’s shaky exhale and smirked to himself. “Yeah. You better make it worth my while though, darlin’. And fuckin’ book it home- my dick’s a stiff breeze away from being a big problem.”

* * *

“Hurry the fuck _up_ , Rick,” Negan whined against the tender, bruising skin of Rick’s neck that his lips had been attached to since they’d stepped into the building. “Kinda wish we’d gotten stuck in the elevator, you know? That’d be hot as fuck, you on your knees blowin’ me against the wall, hopin’ maintenance takes its sweet time getting to us…”

Rick fumbled clumsily with the keys, nearly dropping them when Negan’s hand- which had been groping his ass like it was the world’s best stress ball- slid between his thighs to cup the hardness that had swelled there. “Jesus, Negan,” Rick groaned, thrusting into the boy’s hand and praying that nobody stepped into the hallway to witness their shameless dry-humping. He nipped at his boyfriend’s earlobe, breath hot. “You’ve gotta let me get inside,” he whispered, trying to make his voice into the seductive purr that Negan always accomplished so effortlessly. Negan seemed to catch the double meaning if his full-body shudder was any indication, and it distracted him long enough for Rick to get the key in the lock so that they could tumble inside.

Naturally, it was freezing in their dorm since the heat had been off for a solid week and the short Georgia autumn had given way to the usual cold, dry winter midway through November. “Jesus, it’s colder than Jack Frost’s ballsack in here,” Negan muttered as he cranked up the thermostat. “Can you see my breath? I think I can see my fucking breath.”

Noodle charged wildly around the room to stretch her legs as soon as Rick unlatched her crate, and Negan’s suitcase was abandoned next to the door. Rick slid into Negan’s space, lips hovering a breath away from the other boy’s. “I’ll warm you up,” he promised, and one hand crept around Negan’s waist to squeeze a handful of ass, his eyes dancing with lust-addled mischief. “I wanna fuck you. Can I?”

It was rare to see Negan get well and truly knocked on his ass by something someone else said- that was typically _his_ specialty- but there it was, that plain-as-day surprise on his face that was quickly replaced by a powerful need that Rick was sure was echoed on his own face. “ _Can_ you? Honey, nothing on this whole godforsaken bitch of an earth would thrill me more than taking your gorgeous fucking dick up the ass.”

“Poetic,” Rick mused as he walked Neganback toward his bedroom.

“I’m the next goddamned Whitman, Rick.”

“Mm-hm.” Rick guided Negan to lay back on the bed and followed him down, immediately missing the boy’s warm, lean body against his own. They squirmed around just enough to wriggle beneath the covers before Rick settled heavily between Negan’s spread legs, pressed together from lip to chest to groin as they moved against each other, Rick’s hips rolling down into Negan’s. The feel of him, of his flesh warm and soft against Rick’s own as they undressed each other with eager hands, of his lips constantly seeking Rick's skin, be it Rick’s mouth or his jaw or his neck, left him breathless with want. By the time they were both stripped down to nothing, Rick’s dick was aching between his thighs, hanging heavy and leaking. He tried to ignore its needy throbbing as he rained kisses down on his boyfriend, nibbling at his neck before kissing down, down, down his chest, tongue drawing circles around cold-peaked nipples and mouth sucking biting marks into the flesh of Negan’s ribs and hips.

“ _Fuck_ , baby. Missed that sweet fuckin’ mouth of yours so _much_.” Negan’s fingers caught in Rick’s long curls, stroking through them gently. “I love you.”

Rick’s heart fluttered in his chest the same way it had when he’d first seen the words beneath the photo of him at Pride, the way it had when he’d heard Negan say it aloud, the way it had every time that Negan had texted it to him over the last week. He smiled, pressing a kiss to Negan’s bare inner thigh before rubbing one rough, bearded cheek against the sensitive skin there just to rile Negan up. “I love you, too.”

He tried to put that same _I love you_ into every stroke of his tongue against Negan’s heavy cock, into the way his slick fingers worked him open with gentle, patient slowness. He remembered what Negan had said before, about the first man he’d slept with and how he hadn’t been attentive, and was determined to be the opposite. Negan always, _always_ made him feel so good, so cherished and sexy and desired when they were in bed together, and Rick was determined to repay him in kind.

“Ohh, Christ,” Negan huffed out, one arm slung over his eyes while the other remained tangled in Rick’s hair like he was trying to stay tethered to the bed. Rick mouthed at Negan’s balls, laving each one with attention before his mouth traveled lower and met his fingers. “ _Fuck!_ ” Negan hips raised clear off the bed, legs spreading so wide that one foot hit the wall. Rick chuckled lowly against Negan’s sensitive flesh, and that drew another pained-sounding groan from the boy. “There’s nothin’ that- _aaah_ \- that fuckin’ mouth _can’t_ do, Jesus Christ-” Negan broke off on a whimpering moan as Rick withdrew his fingers and licked up into his lax hole, tongue working him over with fervor. He only stopped when he felt the fingers in his hair give a harsh tug of warning, and then he pulled away and sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork in the form of a trembling, flushed Negan laying beneath him and trying to catch his breath.

“You liked that, huh?” Rick teased. He reached out to rub loving circles over Negan’s belly, feeling it quiver with his laughter.

“You just about had me blowin’ my fuckin’ load. Ho-ly _shit_.” Negan gazed up at him his eyes wandering from Rick’s used mouth to his blushing chest to the stiff, heavy length between his thighs. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous.”

Rick squeezed Negan’s knee, warmth spreading thickly through his chest. “So are you.” He reached for the lube, squeezing some into his hand and finally, blessedly wrapping a hand around his dripping dick, shuddering at the touch of his own hand on the oversensitive flesh. “ _Fuck_ , I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Negan arched his hips up in invitation. “Let me fuckin’ have it, Rick. Give me that dick.”

Rick folded over him, his forehead to Negan’s as he pressed slowly inside. He couldn’t stop the long, low groan that felt like it was being pulled right out of him- Negan was deliciously tight and warm around his cock, and almost a week without the boy had left him desperate for his touch. “So good,” he moaned, seeking Negan’s lips as he began to move slowly inside him, their hips rocking together. “You feel so damn _good_ , baby.”

Negan’s hands couldn’t stay still, alternating between clutching at the back of Rick’s neck to grabbing handfuls of his ass to try to draw him in deeper. It had been a long time since he’d done something like this, but he seemed to be no worse for his lack of practice- Negan was, for once, at a loss for words, only managing the occasional moan or whimper of Rick’s name or vague, vulgar praise.

“Kiss me,” he managed as Rick’s thrusts sped up. His long legs were clamped around Rick’s waist like a vise, keeping him close. “Please, fuck, Rick, you’re so fuckin’- so fuckin’ good, your cock feels so fuckin’ good, baby-” He moaned loudly as Rick pounded into him, and Rick swallowed his sounds down until he felt Negan biting at his lower lip and gasping out his name and spilling hot and wet between their bellies.

Rick considered it nothing less than a miracle that he’d lasted as long as he did, but the feeling of Negan coming all around him, muscles clenched around his cock and come dripping between them, sent him hurtling right over the edge. He managed a couple more quick, needy thrusts into Negan’s body before his orgasm washed over him, wiping his mind blissfully blank of anything but himself and Negan and how good and right they felt together like this.

They lay together afterwards, sweaty and come-spattered and entwined, and Rick felt utterly at home.

* * *

The night of the student exhibition opening, Rick was dressed in a simple button-up and jeans, and Negan was beside himself.

“Rick,” he moaned as he watched his boyfriend slick his wild hair back into something a little less unruly. “You can’t be serious. You’re not even gonna wear a tie? A nice blazer? _Nothing_?”

“This is a nice shirt,” Rick said, plucking at the deep blue fabric. “I thought you liked this shirt?”

“I do! It brings out your eyes, you look so damn good in blue, and you've _got_ to wear blue tonight, full stop. But baby…jeans?” He frowned disapprovingly at the black denim encasing Rick’s legs.

Rick shrugged. Non-holey jeans were about as fancy as he ever got. “At least they’re new jeans,” he pointed out, “not the ones I had to stitch up after _The Jadis Incident_.”

The mere mention of _The Jadis Incident_ had Negan cracking a smile. “I still can’t believe she made armor out of scrap metal. And fucking _wore it to class_. You’d think it would be a health hazard or some shit. Doesn't she get her shit outta the scrap yard?”

“I’m just glad that gettin’ snagged on it didn’t give me tetanus. She swore up and down that she cleaned it, but I was still expecting to lose that leg.” A knock on their door steered the conversation back away from Jadis and her weaponized clothing. “That’s probably Carol.”

Rick opened the door to reveal Carol, Glenn, and Maggie all waiting in the hallway- along with a strikingly handsome boy that Rick didn’t recognize. His smile was startlingly white, similar to Negan's, and his long dreadlocks were pulled back into a ponytail that brushed over his broad shoulders. 

“You two ready yet?” Maggie asked, scanning them both and nodding approvingly at Negan's red-and-black ensemble. “You look nice, Negan. Clean up pretty well.”

Negan adjusted his red scarf around his neck, smiling bright. “Thank you, darlin’. Wanted to look my best tonight.”

Rick rolled his eyes. He _did_ look nice- gorgeous, even, his hair tousled and slicked just so and the red in his scarf echoed in the laces of his boots- but Rick hardly felt that a leather jacket was fancy attire. What did he know, though? He was in jeans. “Carol’s wearin’ a Sex Pistols shirt. It’s not that fancy.” They stepped out into the hall and followed their friends toward the elevator. Once inside, Carol spoke up.

“Oh, shit, sorry- Rick, Negan, this is Ezekiel,” she said, gesturing to the mystery boy beside her.

Rick immediately wondered as he shook Ezekiel’s hand- but no, it would be rude to ask in front of everyone-

“You Carol’s main squeeze?” Negan asked bluntly, stating Rick's thoughts aloud, and Rick felt the overwhelming need to apologize for his boyfriend’s tactlessness. He elbowed Negan in the ribs as the startled look on Carol and Ezekiel’s faces. “What?” Negan asked, “like you weren’t thinkin’ it, too.”

Fair was fair.

“Carol is a friend,” Ezekiel replied warmly. He had a nice voice, soothing and smooth. “I’m in her costuming class. I’m a Zoology major, but I’m minoring in theater. She’s really something. Should've seen her try to fight the sewing machine the first week.”

Carol looked relieved to not have had to answer the question herself, and Negan nodded, satisfied.

When they stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the art building, Carol hung back and walked beside Rick while Negan and Ezekiel began to chat about something- Rick thought he caught the word _tiger_.

“We’re not dating,” Carol murmured quietly.

Rick gave her a look. “Yeah, I know. He just said that.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Carol added with a sly grin, and Rick returned it.

“Good call,” he noted. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Mm,” Carol hummed, watching Ezekiel’s long strides in front of them. “That he is.”

* * *

The reception for the show’s opening was staged in the lobby of the art building, right outside the school’s gallery space. There was an impressive spread of finger food and small desserts lined up on cloth-covered tables and bubbly flutes of champagne were being served to the side. It wasn’t a massive affair by any means, but it was a sizable turnout. Rick recognized most of the art professors among the people milling around the cheese and crackers and strolling through the open gallery. There were some parents gushing over their children’s art on the walls or pedestals- Rick had promised to invite his parents down after the opening, even though he knew he’d be mortified when they saw Negan’s photo of him.

Maggie and Glenn disappeared for a moment and came back bearing champagne for them all, which Rick gladly took and downed half of in one gulp. He was nervous suddenly, the reality settling in that people were going to see not only his art, but _him_ on display tonight.

“Feelin’ alright, Rick?” Negan murmured in his ear as he fixed up a plate of assorted meats and tiny sandwiches.

“Yeah,” Rick breathed. “Yeah, I just…y’know. The photo.” Negan’s smile slipped, an unnecessary apology in his eyes. “No, no, don’t- I’m so happy that I’m up there. You know me- I get anxious about dumb shit.”

Negan nodded and leaned in close, pressing a gentle kiss to Rick’s forehead. “It’s not dumb shit. It’s okay. I’ll be right here with you. Hell, I invited all of my models to come tonight, so you’re not the only one puttin’ it all out there.”

“You ready to go in?” Carol asked, and they both nodded their assent, ditching empty plates and glasses before following her into the gallery.

The first thing Rick saw was Jadis’s giant cat painting-sculpture front and center, and he had to laugh. It looked damn good- for all her strange, quirky ways, Jadis knew her way around a paintbrush.

She was still swathed in all black, though for tonight’s ensemble she’d shed her usual overcoat in favor of something that looked almost like a cape. She was standing with one of her friends, a blonde girl by the name of Tamiel whom Rick strongly suspected was in love with Jadis if her ardent stares up at the taller girl were anything to go by, and Rick nodded to her. “It looks great,” he offered, and she smiled her Cheshire smile and pointed to the plaque beside it.

“My muse.”

Rick squinted at the title of the piece: _Grime._

Well, then.

Rick had to laugh. “I’m flattered.”

Jadis tipped her head at the array of photos hanging on the wall across the room. “You pose for him,” she said of Negan’s photos, and said photographer jumped in with an arm around Rick’s waist.

“He’s my boyfriend. I’ve got the all-access pass.” Rick’s cheeks glowed red, and Jadis was silent for a long moment as she assessed Negan.

“I lay with him after,” she said plainly. “You care?”

Rick choked, blinking rapidly, while Negan doubled over with laughter.

“Holy shit, that’s the most forward indecent proposal I’ve ever heard! You’ve got guts, Jadis, I’ll give you that. But yeah, I do care. ‘Fraid the only person layin’ with Rick after this will be me.”

Jadis shrugged, looking unbothered. “Worth a try.” She gave Rick one last once over. “Liked your photo.”

Rick nodded awkwardly and backed away, sure his face was scarlet.

“Holy shit, she’s got it bad for you.” Negan shook his head and then steered them toward his photos. “C’mon. I wanna see how they look.”

Rick had seen all of them printed large except his own, but seeing them on display in the clean gallery lighting with people milling around them, talking about them, admiring them- there was no comparison.

They were captivating, bright and colorful and demanding attention, both as a whole and individually in their own right. They were all so different that there were no comparisons to be drawn from boy to boy, each one as unique an individual as his own color. When they walked up, Rick and Negan immediately got a few nods of recognition from the people surrounding the photos, and Rick found himself both pleased and a tad embarrassed all at once.

A slim, curly-haired boy made his way over to Negan, hand in hand with a willowy redhead, and Rick instantly recognized them as green and orange from the photos.

“Negan, these look great! I’m glad you finally found a blue,” Green said, and Negan nodded and gave Rick’s waist a proud little squeeze.

“Sure did! Got a little somethin’ extra from him, too.” Rick’s face burned and he elbowed Negan in the ribs. “He’s my boyfriend, I mean. I got a boyfriend out of it.”

The boys chuckled, and Green held a hand out to Rick. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or give you my condolences. I’m Aaron, by the way. This is Eric.”

Rick smiled warmly and shook both boys’ hands, relieved that they seemed to know enough about Negan to not be bothered by him. “I’m Rick. And I’ll take the congratulations tonight. Some days I definitely need the condolences, though,” he joked, and Negan gave a playful pout beside him.

“You should drop by the LGBT club sometime,” Eric offered. “Aaron and I run the show. It’s a good group of people. We usually do a camping trip in the middle of the Spring semester, you two ought to come.”

Rick nodded, immediately liking the image of him and Negan huddled for warmth around a campfire, sharing s’mores and then crawling into each other’s sleeping bags. “Yeah, I’d like that. I haven’t been camping in years.”

“Do you have any work in the show?” Aaron asked, nodding to Rick’s photo. “Looks like you’re a painter.”

Rick’s stomach flipped over on itself. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh. Have a couple paintings.”

Eric’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, they’re the blue ones, right? _Days Gone Bye?”_ Rick could only nod, stunned. “Those are _gorgeous_ ,” he gushed, and Rick could tell he really, genuinely meant it- there was no hint of fake flattery in his voice, just honest admiration. “The palette is so dreamy, they remind me of Monet. It’s like looking into a memory.”

“That’s- that’s exactly what I was going for.” Rick could hardly process that kind of praise from an impartial stranger. “Thank you so much.”

It was only a moment later that he was being tugged along by Negan again, and then they were standing in front of a wall of blues as they came face-to-face with Rick’s paintings.

In Rick’s head, his paintings had looked woefully out of place among the other art. Amateurish, mediocre, clearly the work of someone who had only just begun to get a handle on oil painting. He was sure that he would take one look at them next to everyone else’s refined work and wish that he’d never entered at all.

The reality was far from the worst-case-scenario he’d built up in his head. He didn’t know what it was- if it was the setting or Eric’s praise or the boost of confidence Negan’s photo had given him- but looking at his paintings now, he loved them in a way he never had before. There was something about them now that felt complete, an era come full circle. All of the things he’d been overly critical of before- the loose way he’d handled the paint in some areas, the overabundance of cool colors, the not-quite-perfect accuracy of the drawing…none of it mattered, because as a whole, they felt _right_.

He’d never given much thought to tiles before- in fact, the only reason these two pieces had titles was because he felt like he needed to name them to submit them to the show. The titles had come to him on a whim as he’d been typing up the application- _Days Gone Bye_. That was what they were, though- monuments to his past. They were his own memories dipped in the melancholy-but-sweet hues of nostalgia: himself and Shane as children making pillow forts and playing pirates in the backyard, climbing trees and riding bikes and secretly watching PG-13 movies thinking they were so damn cool because they’d heard people drop an f-bomb on their tv screen.

He noticed now how a bit of violet had begun to creep into the second piece, the beginnings of warmth breaking through the thick surface of blue. He’d only started it because he’d been thinking about what Carol said that first night they’d painted together, but now it seemed perfect, cathartic and hopeful.

Negan’s hand was warm and steadying on the small of Rick’s back, his lips at Rick’s ear. “They’re beautiful, Rick.”

And for the first time, Rick believed it.

* * *

The gallery opening wound down around eleven, and their group of six walked the half-mile to the closest Waffle House to keep the party going. They managed to squeeze themselves into a single booth, their table overcrowded with plates of hashbrowns and bacon. Carol and Ezekiel flirted while Rick and Maggie shared knowing looks across the table, Negan made every sausage joke known to humankind, and their server, dead on his feet after a double shift, let Glenn sneak behind the counter and make himself a second waffle overloaded with chocolate chips and peanut butter once the restaurant was clear.

It was well past one when they all got back to campus, and after tired hugs goodnight, Rick was about to head back to their dorm when Negan stilled him with a hand on his wrist.

“C’mon,” he murmured, “I want a private viewing.”

And that was how they ended up back in the gallery a one-thirty in the morning, sprawled together on the floor beneath the rainbow of portraits, Negan’s head on Rick’s chest.

“You make a damn good pillow,” Negan hummed, placing a kiss on Rick’s collarbone where it was peeking out of his button-up.

“Thank you,” Rick said softly, and Negan seemed to understand that he wasn’t just thanking him for the pillow comment. “For everything.”

Negan rolled up just enough to find Rick’s lips with his own, one hand cupping his cheek as he kissed him breathless on the chilly marble floor. “Thanks for puttin’ up with all my shit.”

Rick chuckled, gazing dreamily up at Negan’s handsome face. “Thanks for puttin’ up with mine.” He nodded to his photo. "As soon as I saw it hanging up, I wasn't nervous anymore. I don't know why, but I just wasn't. I felt like I belonged up there."

"Because you do." Negan nuzzled back into his chest and gave Rick a mouthful of dark gelled-back hair. "I'm glad you ended up bein' my blue. I dunno how I'm gonna top this. Arat loved 'em so much that she asked if I minded her doin' a ladies' version."

"Wow," Rick hummed, "you've already got fans."

"Nah, she just wants an excuse to take pictures of pretty girls."

Rick laughed, the sound strong and echoing in the empty space. "Was that _your_ excuse?"

“Maybe." Rick felt Negan's grin against his chest. "We need some music." Negan sat up, looking down at Rick's prone, lazy form. "My phone's dead, so it's your lucky day. You don't have to listen to Metallica all night."

"I don't _hate_ them," Rick protested as pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Not all the time, anyway. I just got sick of  _Enter Sandman_  that night when you played it for four hours straight on Guitar Hero until you beat Simon's high score." He held up his phone. "Still got a little charge left.”

“Nothing with banjos, Grimes. I fucking mean it, if you play a single goddamned bluegrass song-”

Rick sighed. “Any objections to The Smiths, music critic?”

“Other than everything about fucking Morrissey?”

“No arguments there. One song, though? Please?” Rick tilted his head, aiming big blue puppy-dog eyes at his helpless boyfriend. “I want somethin’ soft we can dance to.”

“ _One_ song.” Negan rose to his feet, pulling Rick up after him. They both knew that he’d let Rick play the whole damn album if he pleased.

Rick hit play and placed his phone to the side, letting the soft, upbeat melody of _This Charming Man_ fill the empty gallery. He took Negan’s hand, and was surprised to see hesitation on his boyfriend’s face.

“What is it? I can change the song if you really hate it that much.”

“No, no- the song’s fine. I actually like this one. I just, uh…I can’t slow dance,” Negan admitted sheepishly, one hand lingering on Rick’s waist like he was unsure if he should take it. “I tried to learn for my high school prom and it was _bad_. I ended up fucking cabbage patching to _The Way You Look Tonight_ for the slow dance. Needless to say, my date was not amicable to getting a hotel room after.”

Rick briefly let himself entertain that image and wondered if somehow some blessed soul had recorded that whole experience. He placed his hand atop Negan’s, moving it up to his shoulder before taking Negan’s waist and pulling him close enough that he could hear the soft hitch of the taller boy’s breath when they pressed together, chest to chest. “It’s easy, you just gotta follow my lead,” Rick said, smiling up at Negan and watching his uncertainty melt away. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cant believe I ended on that line, jesus. I said I wasn't going to because like....Cheesy As Hell but the scene after was so clunky and unnecessary and there was no natural ending to it so I cut it and we ended up here. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read and commented and left kudos, this fic has meant so much to me and has been really cathartic in parts to write because it's the first fic I've actually drawn from my own feelings and experiences to write. thank u all i love u and owe u my life


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